


Hide and Seek

by StormyWords



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Long, M/M, Post Season 5, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-12-31
Updated: 2011-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:37:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormyWords/pseuds/StormyWords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war for Heaven is at full force above their heads. Castiel vs Raphael, where Raphael wants to eliminate every living thing on Earth in order to purify it. The war has begun to spill over on to Earth and Castiel needs Dean's help. But a reappeared Sam makes matters interesting. He doesn't remember how he came back to Earth and he doesn't want Dean to help Castiel save humanity. But the trio set out to fight for humanity despite failing trust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This story is my first slash everrr :). It will also start out mostly gen-ish but will become Dean/Castiel over time. I'm like the pickiest slash fan-fic reader on the face of the planet so I decided to just write one myself.
> 
> I've worked pretty hard to try to get Dean's voice right. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, warning for bad language. Horrible language, really. Because I think that Dean would be a huge potty mouth.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. If I owned Supernatural, Castiel would be naked often. *shrug*

“James, stop digging in the dirt! The ball isn’t there! Eyes on the game, kid! Eyes on the game!” Dean called into the outfield. Dean had stuck James in far out in left field because the kid was known to be easily distracted. Ben was pitching a mean game and Dean was practically beaming even though the sun was uncomfortably hot on the back of his neck. He and Ben had been practicing real hard all weekend and it was sure paying off. He glanced back at Lisa and watched her face light up as Ben threw another perfect strike. The sound of the ball smacking into the catcher’s mitt was beautiful music to their ears. As the batter struck out and grumpily made his way back to the bench everyone on their team cheered. Dean checked off another out on his clip board. They were winning. Big time.

                Ben turned his head and wiped sweat out of his eyes, but Dean knew he was looking to see if his mom was paying attention. The kid was a show off.

                When Dean looked to left field to see if James was paying attention he saw instead something unexpected. “There’s a friggin’ angel in my outfield,” he mumbled to himself. He grinned as Castiel cut across the corner of the field to get to him. The angel’s expression was one of mild confusion as the young third baseman kicked dirt at him. Dean barely heard the sound of yet another perfect strike slamming into the catcher’s mitt and being announced by the umpire. 

                “Hello, Dean,” Castiel said with a hint of a smile in his eyes.

                “Awh man, Cas!” Dean beamed and thumped Castiel on the shoulder. “How’re you doing?”

                “Not well. But as to be expected in war time,” Castiel replied. Dean appreciated his honesty.  

                Dean was still smiling. He hadn’t realized how much he missed Castiel until he saw him again. Trench coat in summer and everything. A sense of familiarity and comradeship fell over them as Dean neglected the game before him and let the assistant coach (some douche who wore Ralph Lauren polos to little league) take the coveted clipboard. The fact that nothing about Castiel had changed comforted Dean in a way that he’d never admit to.

                “Why are you smiling like that? I just mentioned a war,” Castiel asked, studying Dean’s face with a tilted head. Dean knew that expression meant he was trying to decipher Dean’s current facial expression by mentally comparing to ones he has already seen and decoded. 

                “I’m just real glad to see you,” Dean said and wiped the grin off his face.

                Castiel looked as though he didn’t know how to respond to that. “I’ve come to ask for your help,” he said instead.

                “My help?” Dean asked. “What do you mean?”

                “I need your assistance in the war for Heaven,” Castiel explained.

                _Go._

“You see, Cas, um-”

                There was cheering somewhere outside of their conversation and he was vaguely aware that the innings were changing. Castiel looked down at the players filing passed him and into the dug out as if he didn’t understand what they were doing.

                _Go. Go. Go._

                “The thing is I have a family here. Lisa and Ben they, uh, they’ve come to count on me.”

                But they had obviously survived well enough before he came along and wedged himself into their world. Yeah, the extra paycheck he brought it with his construction job was great, but not necessary. Ben had slowly begun to see him as a father figure, but Dean felt as though he was doing a shitty job anyways. With not having a very good idea as to what a “normal” dad did besides what he saw on tv, he was struggling with it. Being a dad from the road and parenting over the phone was what he _knew_.

                _Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go._ It was like a chant. A calling. It drummed in his ears, with his pulse, with his breath.

                “What’s that case?” Dean finished with a sigh. He met Castiel’s gaze and saw a hint of relief that made him see just how tired Castiel looked. He hadn’t seen Castiel this tired and weary since he was almost human. Castiel wasn’t supposed to look worn out.

                “Yay Ben!” shook Dean out of his Castiel only world and back to the game. He looked up and saw that Ben was up at bat. It was Lisa who had cheered and Dean looked to her, contemplating the situation. Lisa and Ben were his life now. He should be happy living life, just the three of them and no danger. There was no running, hiding, guns, violence; nothing _supernatural_. Lisa was good in bed and made the perfect apple pie. Ben was a great kid and resembled Dean in too many ways. Everything was normal and perfect.

                He fucking hated it.

                And he fucking hated that he fucking hated it.

                “Raphael and I are fighting over the domain of Heaven,” Castiel started. His voice was low, intense, and demanding and Dean had pretty much had no choice but to listen to him. “Raphael wants control of everything. He wants to eliminate every living being on Earth so that he may start new. Raphael feels that in order to rid the world of the sin of man and the demons and evil beings that inhabit the earth, he must completely wipe it clean. This can not happen, Dean.”

                “Well, no shit, Cas. What can I do to help stop him?” Dean asked with his hands on his hips. The prospect of a case left a sweet taste in his mouth and picked up his pulse. His mind seemed more focused. He felt good.

                “Raphael has already begun to abolish small cities and towns throughout the United States. He feels that the evil of the world is centered right here,” Castiel said, still in the same intense tone.

                “I coulda told you that,” Dean scoffed while he processed this new information.

                “What we need to do is find Raphael and- and kill him,” Castiel said, losing the intensity of his voice at the end of his statement. His eyes were downcast now instead of holding tightly onto Dean’s.

                Dean knew that killing other angels was the hardest thing for Castiel to do even if he knew he had to do it. He emphasized because he had been faced with having to kill his own brother many times. In fact, he felt like he had, indeed, killed Sam. Dean laid a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, ducking his head, trying to catch Castiel’s gaze.

                 Castiel looked back up to Dean with wide, hurt, sad eyes. Dean couldn’t call himself human if he didn’t completely fall for it. The Puppy Dog Face. Dean was pretty sure that Castiel had learned it from Sam. And the two of them together with That Face were the reasons Dean was almost constantly in varying states of fucked to hell. Dean hoped for a second that Sam was burning in hell for teaching Castiel that look. And just because he was aware of the effects of The Look didn’t make it any less potent.

                “Where do we start?” Dean asked. He scratched the back of his neck nervously. The skin there was tight with sunburn and he immediately regretted his nails against his skin.

                “We need to leave as soon as possible,” Castiel said, The Puppy Face fading.

                Dean nodded but then thought of something he should have thought of first. “I’ll have to talk to Lisa,” he said. It almost sounded like a question, the way his voice lifted at the end. The whole checking in with one’s partner was still new to Dean. Yeah, he had had to check in with Sam when they hunted together, but Sam was a hunter and knew the gig. Sam didn’t expect him home for dinner and to watch fucking _Glee_ on the couch later with popcorn. 

                Castiel and Dean both looked up into the stands and saw Lisa watching them. She looked unbelievably sad but resigned. Dean felt a twinge of guilt but he shoved it down to deal with at a later date. One where there was booze. He waved at her and she waved back. She stood up and hopped down the bleachers to them.

                “Lisa, this is Castiel. He and I… worked together. He just arrived in town,” Dean said and rested an arm around her shoulders.

                “Hey there, Castiel,” she said with a bright smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Are you joining us for dinner?”

                “Um,” Castiel said, he looked startled by the question. He looked to Dean for any type of confirmation. Dean smiled and nodded. Lisa was cooking chili. Angel war over Heaven or not, Lisa’s chili was worth the delay. “Alright. Thank you, Lisa. You’re very kind,” Castiel said with a polite tilt of his head. Like something out of Pride and fucking Prejudice or some shit like that. Dean scoffed.

<<{--}>>

                “So, you hunted with Dean?” Lisa asked Castiel as they were all sitting at the dinner table.

                Dean slowed his chewing to look up at Castiel, anticipating his answer. Their eyes met and Castiel looked extremely nervous. Dean didn’t know why Castiel would be nervous. But under the bright, yellowy light above the kitchen table, Cas looked edgy.

                “Yes,” Castiel said and moved his food around on his plate with his fork.

                “And you’re in town for… business?” Lisa asked. Her voice was light and noncommittal but Dean saw right through it.

                “Yes, it is imperative that Dean comes with me,” Castiel said. He lifted a spoonful of chili to his mouth. And if Dean didn’t know Castiel he would have thought that he’d eaten it. But Dean was watching curiously and saw that the food disappeared from the spoon just as it entered his mouth. Cas was using magic to keep up the allusion that he was eating and enjoying Lisa’s dinner. He even pretended to be chewing. Dean hid a pleased smile behind a piece of cornbread.

                For some reason Dean did not know, it felt like Cas was in on a joke with Dean. Like they were pranking Lisa and Ben somehow and Castiel was following along. It worried Dean a little bit to know that he felt like his life with Lisa and Ben was a joke compared to hunting with Castiel. But it kind of was. How could he sit down and eat fucking cornbread when people were out there dying because of some feathery asshole with a holier than thou agenda? He had always hoped he could settle down for a “real” life someday. And now that he had it, he didn’t want it anymore. “The grass is always greener” or some shit.

                “Is that why you’ve come to Cicero?” Lisa asked and looked down at her food. She was dealing and Dean respected that. She wasn’t going to forbid it. He had suspected that she knew he was unhappy. The almost constant drinking and the devil’s trap under every carpet kind of gave it away. It took him three weeks to stop carrying a weapon in his waistband.

                Castiel nodded. “There are some matters that need Dean’s… expertise,” Castiel said and gave Dean a sidelong glance that said that it almost physically ailed him to say that. Dean knew what Cas was doing. He was buttering Lisa up to get her to think that Dean was like The Only Person Ever that could help him because Dean is a big, strong hero and is needed out in the world. But that was true, wasn’t it? Dean thought so. “I was hoping that I could get your permission for Dean to come with me?” Castiel was talking to Ben.

                Dean wanted to high five Castiel and he had pretty much never wanted to do that before. Lisa’s expression had gone from a guarded sad to respect and agreement. She smiled.

                “Uh, sure,” Ben said with a shrug. He’d been silently eating the entire time though listening intently. “Rick can coach my team, I guess.”

                “Good. Lisa, do we have your blessing?” Castiel asked, and “ate” another bite of food.

                Dean choked on his Pepsi. The ice cubes _clink_ ed against the glass as he unsteadily set the glass down on the table and coughed.

                Lisa laughed. “Yeah, you have my _blessing_. Just treat him good, you hear?” She was in complete agreement that Dean was needed out there protecting the world. She was even being playful with Castiel. These were good signs.

                Castiel looked confused. As though he was unsure of how well or bad he treated Dean was a laughing matter or even relevant to saving the world. He looked to Dean for some kind of guidance so Dean smiled to say that he’d explain later. So Castiel stretched his face into a strange mock grin and let out a noise that almost sounded like a laugh. It set Dean off into a fit of chuckles. Even Ben smiled as he looked back and forth between them all.

                “When will you need Dean?” Lisa asked Castiel as she served some peach pie later at dessert.

                “As soon as possible. I recommend that we leave first thing in the morning,” Castiel said.

                “So soon?” Lisa asked. The forlorn look reappeared. Castiel looked at her as if he was reading into her soul.

                “Yes. The matter I need Dean’s help with is very pressing. Many lives are at stake. Children, even,” Castiel said.

                He was cheating, that bastard, Dean realized. He was reading Lisa’s soul and mind like a how-to manual to find out how she would approve of Dean leaving. Dean was grateful. He didn’t want to leave Lisa upset, but he couldn’t _not_ leave just because of her.

                “Okay, well, Dean, I’ll get the suitcases out of the attic,” Lisa said. She smiled again, a real one, before leaving.

                “You cheated,” Dean said to Castiel later. They were up in Dean and Lisa’s bedroom with Dean’s bag open on the bed. He pulled his clothes out of drawers and off hangers (places they’d never been before) and shoved them into the duffle bag (where they _belonged_ ) unfolded and destined to wrinkle (the way he _liked_ it, okay?) like a kid packing for Disney World.

                “Cheated?” Castiel questioned. “How so?” But there was a glint of amusement in his wide, blue eyes.

                “Don’t innocent angel me, Cas,” Dean chuckled. “I saw you peering into the depths of Lisa’s soul over dessert.”

                Cas actually scoffed. “Her soul is not all that deep.” When Dean stopped shoving shit into his bag to glare, Cas explained. “The only things she cares about in life are her son and you. She wants you two to be happy and that makes her happy. See? Not exactly an ocean.”

                “Maybe that’s all that’s necessary. Ever think of that?” Dean challenged the angel as he fought with the zipper on his overstuffed bag (when did he manage to collect so much crap?). “Maybe if a person thinks and cares about too many things, they’re stretched too thin and are therefore shallow.” Dean was proud of himself. He even stopped struggling with the zipper to gesture to himself with a flourish; celebrating his intelligence. The zipper slid backwards on its own with an unfortunate sounding _flllrrrp_ and therefore ruining Dean’s shining moment of intellect.

                “And where do you stand on that spectrum, Dean Winchester?” Castiel asked. There was too much sass in his tone. Well, implied sass. Because his tone was rather flat. But Dean heard it.

                “All I care about is saving people, kicking ass, pie, and… Sam,” Dean said. He looked down at his bag again. Shit. Sam. Dean sat down on the edge of the bed. “Can I handle the angels without Sam?”

                “I don’t know, can you?” Castiel asked as if he was unsure if Dean’s question was a trick one.

                “I don’t know, that’s why I was asking you,” Dean said.

                “There’s only one way to find out,” Castiel said.

                “Can’t you consult your angelic tarot cards to find out?” Dean asked, halfheartedly sarcastic.

                “Now _that_ would be cheating.”

<<{--}>>

                The next morning, Dean went downstairs to find Castiel and Lisa in the kitchen. Cas had “slept” on the couch in the living room and was now pretending to sip coffee with Lisa. Castiel looked relieved when Dean walked in, still in his blue plaid pajamas (Lisa bought them, alright?). Dean suspected Lisa was asking him question after question and gossiping about Dean. Castiel stood up eagerly.

                “Coffee first, Cas. Then we go,” Dean said groggily. He shuffled over to the pot and poured himself a mug of the steaming hot elixir of life.

                After a cup of coffee and a few slices of toast with Nutella, they were ready to go. Dean kissed Lisa goodbye and ruffled Ben’s hair. He promised to call, email, send postcards, etc. He would miss them, sure, but he would be saving their lives in the mean time. It was worth it.

                Dean lifted the garage door open by the loose handle (didn’t he fix that damn thing like last fucking week?) and stared at the car shaped lump. Covering the Impala with a tan cover and not driving her was like being castrated. Now Dean stood before her, his fingers itching to rip the covers off like it was Christmas morning and he was four years old. A big ridiculous grin was spread across his face as he stepped up to her. He gripped the fabric and pulled it off like he was doing that magic trick with the table cloth. The Impala was a gleaming black and the light from the rising sun outside winked off of her hood. Dean ran his hands over her frame with a sigh. He had been tempted so many times to sneak out to the garage and just sit in the driver’s seat. The seat was perfectly worn in to fit his ass and the truck he drove for work just didn’t feel right. The leather of the steering wheel was frayed just the littlest bit on the top and slightly to the left; where he gripped the wheel most often. A tape was still in the radio and a few food wrappers were still in the backseat where they were lovingly tossed. There was even the empty, plastic, apple juice bottle that Sam had drank and tossed into the back ages ago. Dean hadn’t had the heart to throw it out, or the patience to wedge it out from under the passenger’s seat.

                “It’s a shame that she was locked up and covered for so long,” said a voice that was definitely not Castiel’s but as familiar to Dean as his own.

                He whipped around, practically tripping over the car cover. He couldn’t help but gasp, it was involuntary. Because there was no way that _he_ was standing there in Lisa’s garage. Alive. Looking bashful with his hands in his pockets. Because he had no fucking right to just be _standing there_.

                “Sammy?” Dean whispered. He didn’t dare say anything louder for fear that he was only imagining his bigger younger brother standing there right in front of him, for fear that seeing the Impala brought back memories of his brother so strong that he was hallucinating. Maybe the Nutella had gone bad and this was just a fucked up sign of food poisoning.

                But it wasn’t. Unless Cas was just as deranged, nostalgic, or sick. Castiel rushed forwards with a hand outstretched, two fingers out (meaning serious business), as Dean reached into the Impala and pulled the gun out from the compartment on the side of the door. Sam had his hands up to show he was unarmed and was looking at them innocently. The partial Puppy Dog Look didn’t stop Dean from aiming his gun at Sam. He’d had enough of surprises in his lifetime to know that not all reunions come with balloons.

                Cas touched Sam’s forehead and gripped his shoulder with his other hand. A few seconds later, Castiel stepped back, lowering his hands.

                “Is it him? Is it Sam?” Dean demanded.

                “It is him,” Castiel said turning to give Dean a look of pleased shock.

                Dean put the safety back on the gun and dropped it into the Impala before walking quickly (because running would have been too eager) to Sam. He hugged him fiercely, and only stopped after he heard the joints in Sam’s back crack. Sam was embracing him back and complaining about the tightness of Dean’s hold. “How are you here? How’d you get out, Sammy?” Dean was asking him over and over.

                When Sam extracted himself from Dean’s vice like grip, he was beaming. “I don’t know, Dean. I woke up not long after Kansas. I guess it was just a few weeks. But I just woke up back in that cemetery. I don’t know or remember anything, but I’m back! Dean, I’m _alive_!”

                “You don’t remember anything about how you returned to Earth?” Castiel asked, stepping closer.

                “No, I remember falling into the pit and then waking up. It felt as though I’d just tripped and fallen on the ground and blinked. Except it was dark and no one else was there. At first I thought you’d just left me there after I tripped or something. But then I found a diner down the road and saw the date on a newspaper,” Sam explained.

                “Why didn’t you come find me?!” Dean asked, scandalized. He punched Sam’s arm.

                “Ow! I thought you wanted a normal life! I was staying away so that you could have it!” Sam exclaimed and rubbed where Dean punched.

                “Well,” Dean stuttered for a response. “I would still have wanted to know you were alive! It was hell thinking you were dead!”

                “Sorry,” Sam said and had the nerve to look sheepish. “So where are you guys going?”

                Castiel launched into the retelling of the war against Raphael for Sam. Dean just stared at Sam like a creep. Come on, he’d shown up after being effectively dead for months. Dean had a right to stare at his little brother. He’d never thought he’d see his increasingly girly hair ever again.

                “Dean shouldn’t go on this case,” Sam said after Cas finished.

                “And why the hell not?” Dean snapped.

                “You have a life here now. You have Lisa and Ben and a real home,” Sam said. “It’s what you’ve always wanted. It’s why I stayed away.”

                “Why are you back then?” Castiel questioned.

                “Because,” Sam rolled his eyes, “because I missed you guys, okay?”

                Castiel narrowed his eyes at Sam. Dean knew he was reading Sam’s soul. Cas didn’t make a move to suggest he saw anything bad so Dean guessed everything was alright.

                “Sam, the world is at stake here. Again. And we have to save it,” Dean argued. “If we don’t do this, Lisa and Ben will die, and everything we’ve done so far, all the people we’ve saved, will be for nothing. You, of all people, should know that.”

                “I just don’t like the idea of you going out and hunting again,” Sam said with a shake of his head.

                “Well, tough, _Dad_ ,” Dean said and folded his arms across his chest.

                “Dean is needed on this mission,” Castiel said. “You may come with us and aid us in battle, Sam. You are a talented hunter, as well. You would be a beneficial addition to our garrison.”

                “I’ll go,” Sam said. “But I still don’t like Dean going.”

                “Deal with it, bitch,” Dean said.

                “Jerk,” was Sam’s automatic response and Dean could have cried with joy when he heard it again. But he didn’t. Because Sam was the girl, not him.

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

Castiel hadn’t stayed with them the whole ride North. He popped in and out giving updates about the goings on in Heaven. At one point, Sam had fallen asleep and Castiel was hushed by Dean for talking too loud. He huffed in annoyance and left them until Dean and Sam pulled into a gas station and rest stop much later. The sun was setting and they were hungry and a little bit agitated. Their only instructions from Castiel were “Head North. I will get more information soon.” And it’s not like Indiana is in the South. So they were going to run out of North before Canada. And there was no way they would be able to cross the border without real passports or the arsenal in the trunk of the Impala.

                After driving over six hours, they stopped in a place Dean saw on a map and though was cool; Bad Axe, Michigan (“Dude, Sammy, it sounds like _Bad Ass_ , Michigan!”). Then, on the way there, he was delighted to see signs for Cass City. They must have been on the right track if the cities were named after two of them, right? Dean was sure of it.

                When they were stopped at the gas station, Sam went in to get the two for a dollar hot dogs that were advertised out front. Dean stayed to fill up his baby and was leaning against the trunk as she filled, thinking about Sam. Everything was great with Sam. It was back to the good ole’ days before his deal and being vessels and before things got very soap opera like. Before angels, was a less nice way of putting it. Dean was on top of the world with both of his best friends, Sam and Cas, with him and everything was great. Well, except for the whole end of the world thing. But by now, to Team Free Will, the end of the world held as much value as being out of milk.

                It was too good to be true. Good things made Dean suspicious. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything.

                “Sam told me where you are. You didn’t answer your phone,” Castiel said from like two inches away from Dean’s right ear. Dean didn’t even jump anymore when Castiel appeared. Except for that one time he was in the bath, but they agreed to never speak of that again. Ever.  (There were bubbles involved).

                “Did Sam tell you to stand all up in my business?” Dean asked when he could feel Castiel’s hot breath on his neck.

                Cas took a step back. He was used to this. But apparently you can’t teach an old angel new tricks. Getting Castiel to act human when in public was like teaching a puppy to ring a bell by the back door when it has to pee. Fucking impossible. It’s not like Dean wanted to handle Castiel like Cesar Milan handled dogs, but still. He could at least respect the elbows length personal space rule for crying out loud.

                “What news do you bring, Cas?” Dean asked with false bravado.

                “Ohio,” Castiel said. “Northeast Ohio. A town called Mentor. It was the first to go.”

                “Mentor. I get it,” Dean snorted once in sardonic laughter. The Impala was done filling so he hung the pump up and closed the tank. “It’s supposed to be an example. Mentor is a mentor.”

                “Yes,” Castiel said. “We should examine it to look for any signs of demonic or angelic activity besides the missing people, or anything to suggest where Raphael plans to go next.”

                “Since the town is already empty, we don’t have to hurry, right?” Dean asked.

                Castiel looked at Dean like he was losing his marbles. “We will look for clues as to where Raphael is going next.”

                “But Mentor isn’t the only city gone, right?” Dean asked.

                “No, it was the first. There are five others to date,” Castiel said with a confused shake and then tilt of his head.

                “Mm, so any trail will just lead us to the second city, right?” Dean asked. He was being a smartass and he knew it.

                “Perhaps, but we must find some clue as to how he’s choosing cities,” Castiel was getting frustrated now. A crease had formed between his brows and his jaw was set a little tighter.

                “Can we rest for the night?” Dean finally asked. He kind of really wanted to say that he spent the night in bad ass Bad Axe. Maybe there were t-shirts….

                “I would like to keep moving,” Castiel said. His frustration turned to exasperation.

                Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine, but we’re stopping in Cass City.”

                Castiel looked down at his body and then looked up to Dean. Confusion played in his blue eyes and he tilted his head again. “Are you… hitting on me?”

                “ _What_?!” Dean exclaimed and practically choked on his own spit.

                “You once said you were going to Babe City before leaving to fornicate with a female,” Castiel explained in a tone too rational and calm for the conversation. “You call me Cas, so Cas City….”

                “No, it’s a place,” Dean said. His ears were red and a blush was high on his cheeks. He cleared his throat. “Where’s Sam? What’s taking him so long?”

                “There have been trouble acquiring hot dogs, condiments, liquids, and payment,” Castiel ticked off like he knew.

                “You’ve been tampering with Sam?” Dean asked.

                “I felt that you needed to talk privately,” Castiel said simply. When Dean sputtered, still not over the embarrassment of sort of hitting on Cas, Cas explained. “About Sam.”

                “Oh,” Dean said and relaxed, leaning against the Impala again. He was silent for a few moments, thinking. “It’s not like Sam to not want me to help save the world. If it’s really Sam in there, he’d want me to do all that I can to help and he’d be right there with me. Hell, he _has_ been right there with me.”

                “I can assure you that it is _Sam_ who has returned. But your concern is appropriate,” Castiel said with a slow nod.

                “It’s just-” Dean sighed and looked down. He was afraid of what he was going to say. As if saying it out loud made it real and kick started the effects. Castiel waited patiently for him to finish. “It’s just that I’m afraid that maybe Sam does remember stuff from Hell. Maybe Sam broke and is batting for the other team. I don’t want to be James in the outfield playing in the dirt and singing to myself when Sam hits a line drive.”

                Castiel looked thoughtful for a moment then it was replaced with confusion _again_. His exasperated tone returned. “I don’t understand the story. Who’s James?”

                “He’s not important,” Dean said with a wave of his hand. “What I’m saying is I don’t want to be caught unaware with my pants down when Sam goes dark side.”

                Castiel looked seriously on the verge of temper tantrum. “ _Dean_ , why would your pants be down?”

                “You know what? Shut up.” All Dean could do was laugh.

                “I’m just trying to understand how you’re concerned with your pants being down if and when Sam turns on us,” Castiel said earnestly.

                Dean closed his eyes for a second. “Modesty, Cas, modesty.”

                “Oh,” Castiel said with a look on his face that was almost identical to the one Sam would get when he encountered something he had read about.

                “Sam still having trouble?” Dean asked, looking towards the gas station.

                “He will be out in a moment. An attractive woman can’t find her wallet,” Castiel said distantly. “Did you want to converse more? I could stop time to finish this intercourse.”

                “Okay, now _you’re_ hitting on _me_ ,” Dean chuckled.

                “No,” Castiel said (too) indifferently.

                “What I do want to know is what you think about Sam,” Dean said immediately after, trying to get away from topic of hitting on Cas and vice versa.

                “Why, will he hit on me?” Castiel asked. His eyes were wide and almost fearful.

                Dean only looked at Castiel with a frown, waiting for his stupid angel brain to work it out on its own.

                “Do you mean about him returning? I think that your point is very valid. It is extremely possible that Lucifer managed to turn Sam away from Good and then sent him back to Earth. But we have no proof as of yet. Keeping a close eye on Sam will be beneficial,” Castiel said, all business again.

                “Alright. If you see anything weird or suspicious, you tell me,” Dean said as the gas station door opened. A disgruntled Sam came out with a handful of hot dogs and a swinging plastic bag.

                “What took so long, Sammy?” Dean asked with a grin.

                “Everything. Hey, Cas, what was the news you mentioned?” Sam asked as they got into the Impala.

                Castiel retold everything about Mentor to Sam and they headed out of Bad Axe. Dean was sure to drive by Cass City to show Cas that he really wasn’t hitting on him. Because that was terribly important for Cas to know. So Dean circled it and pointed out every sign they passed.

                After about the fifth sign, Castiel smirked in the back seat. “’Methinks thou doth pro-‘”

                “No! You don’t get to misquote Shakespeare at me when you can’t even grasp common idioms,” Dean snapped at him. He glared at the bright blue eyes glinting mischievously at him through the rear view mirror.

                This sparked Sam’s interest as to when Dean had read _Hamlet_ (it’s got a ghost of a guy’s dad. ‘Nuff said) and they (read: Sam) discussed it at length for about an hour. Sammy was a geek, and Dean just let him talk his heart out about stupid fucking Shakespeare (Dean had read it waiting for some sort of sexy scene between Hamlet and Ophelia, but was disappointed).  That’s when Dean decided that he was going to enjoy Sammy being back as much as he could. He had missed his bigger little brother a lot and was going to take everything a day at a time. And if that meant pretended that Sam might not be evil, then so be it.

<<{--}>>

                They made it to Mentor after midnight, so they went to the next town and got a hotel room. They researched the city and learned that drama had been stirred up just before the disappearance.

                “There were a lot of cases of bullying,” Sam said from his spot on his bed. His laptop was open on his legs and he was frowning at the screen.

                “Bullying?” Dean asked incredulously. “And how is that different than any other town ever?”

                “At least four students at the high school committed suicide with the bullying as a factor,” Sam said. “Bullying to _death_? That doesn’t sound like something humans would do.”

                “Are you sure it wasn’t staged by demons?” Dean asked, looking up from his stack of newspapers.

                “No, each kid had spoken out to family about it or kept extensive journals documenting it,” Sam said with a sad shrug. “Poor kids.”

                “So the bullies may have been demons?” Dean asked.

                Sam scrunched up his nose. “Yeah and the worst part is, some of the kids who did the bullying already graduated.”

                “We gotta find them,” Dean said, ready for some kind of action.

                “No. The demons stayed,” Castiel said. “I’ve done my research, as well.”

                “The demons are dead?” Sam asked.

                “Yes,” Castiel replied. “The demons that were in the town died at the same time the humans did.”

                “We know for sure that they’re dead?” Dean asked.

                “Yes. That was Raphael’s plan,” Castiel said sadly.

                “Why this town? Why these people?” Dean asked.

                “Irony,” Sam said darkly. “Demons were here tormenting kids to take their own lives in a town that was supposed to be a role model town. This town had historic and modern value to it and was on the top one hundred places to live list this year.”

                “What’s the historic value?” Dean asked, hoping for some ghosts to blast.

                “The home of President James A. Garfield,” Sam said with a fond smile. “Dad took me there once. You stayed in Cleveland at the big mall, trying to pick up chicks.”

                “Whatever. What’s the modern value?” Dean continued. New ghosts?

                “Well, they’re very proud of their touch screen drive through Subway,” Sam chuckled. “There were plans for an entirely green and sustainable neighborhood.”

                “Where should we go first?” Dean asked Castiel.

                “The very center of town,” Castiel replied. “It’s the library.”

                “I hate libraries,” Dean groaned.

                “You’re going to especially hate this one,” Castiel said.

<<{--}>>

                The next morning, they headed out towards Mentor. From the way they entered town, it looked like the average suburb. There were numerous strip malls, stores, restaurants, and markets. A Wal-Mart was across the street from a Kmart. The homes ranged from middle class to upper class variety. Everything looked clean and like it would on any given day. Except there were no people. And for a town of over fifty thousand residents, it was remarkable for them to all be at home at once. It was obvious that the people were eliminated unexpectedly, because there were  a few cars crashed into phone poles and signs.

                “They were taken at night,” Dean said when they parked along the main street that ran through town, Mentor Avenue. He knelt down to feel the road.

                “What makes you say that?” Sam asked him. He pulled out his phone and saw that he had perfect reception. There were no reports of people calling for help, so nobody felt threatened enough to call.

                “This road is extremely worn. The kind of worn down that says keeping up with it would cost the city and the surrounding businesses too much money to close down to fix. This road was a heavy trafficked area. And there are only a few cars here and there along the road. So, I’d say about three in the morning on a weekday,” Dean explained. Yeah, he knew he was good.  Damn good.

                “You are correct,” Castiel said. His tone and expression were mixtures of impressed and annoyed at Dean’s quick discovery. Dean figured it took Cas longer than him to figure it out and he was a sore loser.

                “How close are we to the library?” Sam asked.

                “It’s not much further along this road,” Castiel replied.

                It wasn’t which Dean was thankful for because he was accidentally wearing Sam’s socks and they were bunching up in his boots. He made a mental note to label Sam’s bag, or something. They had to break into the library because it was closed when the people disappeared. Dean used the cigarette disposal can to break into the glass door. Once inside, sunlight was flowing in the windows and the door to illuminate the writing all over the support pillars. At a first glance, it looked like graffiti, but Castiel made a noise like an angry grunt as he took the symbols in. Dean looked to Castiel, frowning in the faint sunlight.

                “These symbols are all human banishing sigils and demon banishing sigils. They work the same as the ones used on angels, except it kills the humans,” Castiel explained. He reached out and touched his fingers to one. The blood it was written in was dry and didn’t come off on his hand. “These sigils were to never be used. They are banned in Heaven,” he was practically growling. The air hummed with his power and it made Dean feel a little bit queasy. Books rattled on their shelves and CDs went tumbling to the ground.

                Dean stood next to Castiel despite his quease inducing power anger. He wanted to rest a hand on Castiel’s shoulder but figured it wasn’t the best idea. So he remained near and silent.

                “Very few angels knew of the existence of these sigils. Raphael was one of them. He was _trusted_ with the knowledge and he is abusing it,” Castiel spat each word out like it was poison. His brow was scrunched together and his eyes were glaring.

                Dean didn’t really know what to say. He looked over to Sam and saw that Sam was clutching his stomach and looking kind of green. Dean was sweating and his stomach was churning. “Sam and I are going upstairs to check everything out up there. You stay down here and… break stuff. It’ll make you feel better,” Dean said.

                Sam and Dean hurried up the large staircase before them and realized that it lead to a children’s library. Everything was low to the ground, brightly colored, plastered with sayings like “School is cool!” and “Reading is fun,” and smelled like diapers and cupcakes. Even the hamster and the hermit crabs were gone from their homes.

                A loud _crash_ came from downstairs.

                “Shit,” Dean mumbled. The graffiti sigils were present on the second floor as well. It was then that it really sunk in that _kids_ were dying, too. Yeah, he had known in his mind that children were dying, but he hadn’t quite believed it until he stood in the empty children’s library. The sign to his right said that toddler story time was supposed to have begun six minutes ago and that afternoon they were showing _A Bug’s Life_.

                _Bang_!

                “There should be tons of kids here right now,” Sam said from next to the train set. He leaned down to pick up one of the wooden pieces. Dean remembered that Sam used to fucking lose his shit over trains when he was a kid. Sam even had a conductor’s hat that he wore literally everywhere when he was five.

                _BAM_ … _crash._

                “Raphael killed them all. You know, I’m really starting to get sick of this evil angel bull shit!” Dean exploded. He even started to talk with his arms gesturing wildly. “Angels are supposed to be the good guys! Little cherubs with wings and bare asses. There should be harps. But no, angels are dicks with children killing sigils and swords to kill each other with! The only good angel we know is a fallen rebelled angel. What kind of sense does that make, Sam?!”

                A roar of glass shattering came up the stairs.

                “It doesn’t, I agree,” Sam said shaking his head. His eyes were narrowed and his throat bobbed as he fought back tears. He still held the train toy in his hand and put it in his pocket.

                Castiel came up the stairs, slightly out of breath. Dean turned to see him. Castiel had that tired look on his face again. The one that actually scared Dean. Cas wasn’t nearly as angry anymore so his presence didn’t make Dean sick.

                “You alright now?” Dean asked Cas, even though his tone was still harsh and angry.

                Castiel nodded slowly as he looked around the children’s library.

                “We need to stop this son of a bitch,” Dean said, his voice low and rough. “We need to work our asses off to find him and kill him. There will be no more innocent deaths, you hear?”

                Sam and Cas nodded. Sam’s tears had not spilled over, his eyes were dry, but he had all the other markings of Sam-About-to-Cry. Dean thought for a second that maybe he was only pretending and couldn’t get himself to tear up. Dean shook the thought off and turned back to the steps.

                They searched the entire library (which was destroyed a la Castiel) and the rest of the town for some kind of clue as to why Raphael chose that city besides irony. There was nothing to suggest that he had a rhyme or reason for choosing cities, but they couldn’t rule it out yet.

                “I must return to Heaven,” Castiel said to Sam and Dean as they approached the Impala later that evening. “My garrison is preparing for a battle and I have sent spies to Raphael’s garrison. Their return is anxiously awaited and extremely important.”

                “Alright,” Dean said casually. There was a slight pang of disappointment when Cas said he was leaving. Dean was afraid that without Cas there, Sam would turn on him. He sure as fuck didn’t want to be alone when that happened. If that happened.

                Sam said something to Castiel, but Dean didn’t hear him. He was to busy thinking really loudly at Castiel, hoping he would hear it with his angel super powers. _“CAS, DON’T LEAVE ME WITH SAM FOR TOO LONG. I THINK HE’S MORE LIKELY TO GO DARK SIDE APE SHIT IF YOU’RE NOT HERE._ ”

                Cas winced like someone was yelling in his ear and looked to Dean confusedly. So Dean finished with: “ _Sincerely, Dean._ ” What the fuck was he supposed to say? He’d never communicated telepathically before. Cas’ eyes took on a glint of amusement as he spoke to Sam, but Dean still wasn’t listening to outside talk. He’d never been good at that. Talking with the radio on had always been a bit of an issue, so this was no different.

                “ _What do primate feces have to do with Sam being sided with demons_?” Castiel thought to Dean. It was the weirdest thing. It made Dean’s brain itchy. He scratched his head but that didn’t help because the itch was inside his head.  

                “Go back to Heaven, Feathers,” Dean said out loud. He hadn’t meant to, he wanted to say it to Castiel’s mind.

                Castiel smirked at Dean before disappearing.

                Sam and Dean returned to their motel room by nightfall with a couple of pizzas and a shit ton of beer. Castiel had told Sam (when Dean was talking to Cas’ mind) to not leave town, because he was hoping to be right back. So the brothers ordered pay per view and spent the night relaxing. Or, in Dean’s case, pretending to relax while waiting for Sam to snap. But Sam didn’t snap. He drank too many beers and ate too much pizza and slept on his stomach over the covers, snoring like a lion. Good old Sammy.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be just a short little chapter in Castiel's POV but it ended up being the longest one yet. Weirrrd. The rest of the story will probably be in Dean's POV. Hope you don't mind the little switch! :)

Lying was a sin, so Castiel couldn’t deny the fact that he wanted to be back on Earth with Dean and Sam. Lies tasted bitter on his tongue anyways, so he avoided them at all costs. He’d left Dean and Sam back at the hotel in Ohio with a promise that he’d be back soon. He was only in Heaven to check up on his garrison and to receive news on where Raphael was going to strike next. He had sent Micah, a highly sought after angel of Divine Paths, to spy on Raphael. His return was greatly anticipated.

                Angels hushed when he entered the room. A respectful silence fell about them and the only sound was the sound of his wings beating slowly as he settled on the floor. He looked out at each of them, peering at their minds and souls, making sure there were no misdirected angels in his midst. After seeing all Good willed angels amongst him, he spoke.

                “The Winchesters have joined us in the fight. They will be our soldiers on Earth. You will respect them and treat them as you would your loyal brothers. Now, is there any news that I should be made aware of?” Castiel asked the group.

                Many angels came forward with news of new Loyal angels and new angels following Raphael. Some came forth with information about angels who were nearing decisions of sides. A few had information of where Raphael had been seen in Heaven and who he’d been seen with. Micah finally came forward when the rest of the angels had been dismissed.

                “Castiel, I know where he’s going next,” Micah said in a hushed tone. He knew that if he was able to be an undetected spy, then others were capable as well.

                Had Castiel been human, he would have waited on bated breath.

                “He will be in West Palm Beach, Florida within a week,” Micah said. “He feels that the town is sinfully lustful. Demons and humans alike have flocked there as of late and are committing disgustingly rampant acts of a sexual nature. Honestly, it is shameful, but these humans choose this path. Father gave them the choice for them to do as they wish.”

                Castiel carefully inspected Micah’s soul for any hint of disloyalty and found none. He nodded slowly. “Thank you, Micah. Your work will not go unnoticed.”

                Micah left soon after. Castiel needed to think. He flew about Heaven for some time, enjoying the feel of the wind through his wings. It was a freeing feeling compared to the constraint of being in his human vessel on Earth. He stretched his muscles and wings and reveled in the comfort of Heaven. He flew for hours just thinking. Castiel felt empathy for Dean. Both Castiel and Dean had brothers with doubtful loyalties. Both were harboring broken hearts over how things just Weren’t Working. Castiel really didn’t know who or what brought Sam back and it bothered him. Every time he looked into Sam’s soul and mind, he came up blank. Either Sam was telling the truth and didn’t know who or what brought him back, or someone or something bigger and more powerful than Castiel was controlling Sam’s mind. All Castiel could see in Sam was fear for the future and how he managed to come back, determination to succeed, trust and love for his brother, and loyalty to Castiel.

Castiel liked to look at Dean’s soul and mind. His was more complex and simpler than Sam’s at the same time. Castiel didn’t want to admit it at all, but Dean had been right when he’d said that being a deep person didn’t mean caring and knowing about everything. He had proven Castiel wrong. Again. And that’s why Castiel liked looking at Dean. He was a paradox. Dean had wrecked Castiel’s faith at the same time he renewed it so much stronger. Dean cared about few things in his life and his soul was carved out of them. The intensity for which he cared about his favorite things was his weakness and his strength. His love for Sam had proven this time and time again and probably would forever. Dean’s respect for Castiel had only grown. Even when he was mad at the angel, he knew it was because the angel was doing what he thought was right and good. Even when he called Castiel bad names and cursed at him, Castiel knew he wasn’t speaking to _Castiel_ , he was speaking to what Castiel was doing. And Castiel only knew this from looking at and studying Dean’s soul. Dean had a strong front that he had worked his whole life to perfect. But Castiel knew everything about Dean. He had rebuilt every inch of Dean when he pulled him from Hell; there wasn’t a thing he didn’t know. Maybe it was cheating, Castiel didn’t know, but he saw right through Dean’s stone wall. The bond that had been formed between them not only as he pulled Dean from the fires of Hell, but on Earth in battle, through self destruction and back up, connected him to Dean more than any other human.

After flying for hours, enjoying being out of his vessel, he decided it was a good time to return to Dean and Sam. He had been gone for two human days and hoped to find them still in Ohio at the hotel where he had specifically told them to stay.

He landed in his vessel in the hotel room. Summer daylight streamed through the salt-lined windows. Castiel looked about the room and didn’t see Dean or Sam. He checked the bathroom, neither was there either. Why they would both be in the bathroom, he didn’t know, but he’d actually hoped for it. Because if they were both in the bathroom in would mean that they were both safe and where he’d left them. Castiel’s worry grew when he remembered that Dean was afraid that Sam would turn on them and would serve the demons or Raphael. But Castiel would have known if that had happened. He would have felt it or heard it from other angels. Still, it did nothing to settle his fear and worry for Dean.

Castiel remembered his cellular phone in his vessel’s pocket. He searched for it and pulled it out and turned it on. It made a charming song of _beep_ s as it displayed a screen of dancing letters and the words “Dean rules!” in the forefront. He wondered why the cellular device was telling him Dean ruled. What territory did Dean rule? Castiel made a note to ask him about it later. When Dean had bought the phone for Castiel, he and Sam had both pressed buttons on it for an hour. Castiel looked at it now and saw Dean’s face on the screen. He was making a strange face with his eyes crossed and his tongue sticking out. Castiel found it humorous but didn’t understand why Dean was on his cellular phone. “Dean?” he asked it. But when Dean’s face didn’t change, it occurred to Castiel that this was only a photograph. He sighed and remembered the lesson Sam had given him on how to use his programmed speed dial. He pressed the number two (number one was called voicemail) and then the green button and the screen said “Dialing Dean Winchester.” He put the phone to his ear and listened to the grating noise of the phone ringing. He wondered how humans could possibly tolerate this noise when they couldn’t tolerate his voice.

There was no answer besides Dean’s voicemail. Castiel had learned the hard way with much mocking that it was not actually Dean talking on the other end. The voicemail greeting was prerecorded. So he pressed the red button and then number three and the green button. “Dialing Sam Winchester” was displayed on his screen. Sam did not answer his cellular phone either.

Castiel’s worry grew. He flew to the front desk. The girl at the counter looked up at him, startled because she hadn’t seen him approach the counter. “Can I help you, sir?”

“I’m looking for Dean and Sam. Are they here?” Castiel asked.

“Um, we can’t disclose the names of the people who are staying here unless you’re a cop and you have a warrant,” she said looking over his suit and trench coat.

“I’m not a cop but I must find these two men,” Castiel said. “One is very tall and has long, brown hair. The other has short, lighter hair.” He Willed her to give up the information that she knew.

She looked thoughtful. “I’m not completely sure of who you’re talking about. There were two attractive guys like that here yesterday. Are they really hot?”

“I have not felt them to know their temperature,” Castiel said. He wondered if they had been ill.

The girl giggled. “I meant are they in great shape?”

“They are quite strong for humans, yes,” Castiel said impatiently.

“Um, okay, well, they were here yesterday at least. I just got here. If they come in, I can tell them you were looking for them,” she suggested.

“No, I require them now,” Castiel said before walking out the door.

Out on the sidewalk he stopped a man who was walking by on a cellular phone. “Do you know where Dean and Sam are?”

“No, man,” the human said in a voice that suggested that Castiel had been rude. He kept walking and left Castiel on the sidewalk.

Castiel walked a block in the other direction. He encountered two young females dressed in shorts and brightly colored tank tops. They were laughing and talking loudly. Castiel stepped in front of them and they stopped in their tracks.

“Dude, move!” one girl said.

“Have you seen Dean and Sam?” Castiel asked.

“Who?” the other girl asked.

Castiel looked at their souls and saw that they were near the age of the girl working at the counter in the hotel. “Have you seen two hot men in great shape?” Now he was speaking their language and expected that they would now understand him perfectly.

One girl laughed and the other looked disturbed. She made a noise of disgust and said “Ew, what do we look like? A gay dating site?” Then they both pushed passed him and went on their way.

Castiel didn’t understand. He had spoken their language and everything. He walked another block and concentrated on the souls and minds of the few people he passed. None had the imprints of Dean or Sam on them. Castiel did this for what felt like hours, but had really only been about twenty minutes. Then he came across a small bookstore and heard the thrum of a soul entwined with Dean’s soul. He knew it was Sam by the pitch. Castiel burst through the doors of the bookstore and concentrated on the hum of Sam’s soul. It was relaxed, almost sleepy, and content. He followed the hum through rows of books and passed tables of quiet readers. He found Sam near the back, sitting at a table with his chin in his hand and his eyes focused on a book on the table. A paper cup of coffee rested on the table before him. Castiel was very relieved to have found Sam because Dean couldn’t be too far from him. But when he realized that he didn’t hear the thrum of Dean’s soul, he became angry.

Castiel stood in front of Sam’s table and Sam looked up. “Hey, Cas,” he said in a quiet, calm, friendly voice.

“Where is Dean?” Castiel asked harshly. A young man glared at him from the next table. “What have you done with him?” Castiel continued in a quieter voice.

“He’s fine, he’s around here somewhere,” Sam said with a shrug. “Why what’s wrong?”

“You didn’t answer your cellular phone,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s on silent. What’s going on, Cas?” Sam said. He closed his book and stood up.

“You and Dean weren’t in your hotel room or the bathroom, the girl at the front desk made me call you ‘hot’ and still didn’t know where you were, and two girls who are not a gay dating site had not seen you. Also, you didn’t answer your phone,” Castiel listed quickly.

Sam looked like he wanted to laugh but didn’t. “Sorry. Let’s go find Dean. Calm down,” he said and led Castiel out the door of the book store.

They were out in the sunlight and fresh air and Castiel breathed deeply. The bookstore had been musty and smelled like stale coffee beans.

“He had said something about calling Lisa,” Sam said and looked around. He pulled out his phone and called Dean, but Dean didn’t answer. “Yeah, he’s probably on the phone.”

Sam and Castiel walked down the street and Castiel strained to listen for Dean’s soul. Then there was just the faintest echo of his soul and Castiel flew to it immediately. Dean had been a few blocks away at a small dog park. He was on his phone, pacing back and forth in front of a bench. Castiel looked at his soul and saw the ache there. He was talking to Lisa about how Ben had gotten into a fight with some neighborhood kids. Dean felt like he could have prevented the fight if he’d been there. He felt responsible for Ben like a father would. But he was not Ben’s father. Castiel had checked.

Castiel let himself relax in a cool calm now that he knew that both Dean and Sam were safe.

When Dean hung up he turned to see Castiel approaching him. He gave a small, tight lipped smile. “What’s up, Cas?”

Castiel looked up before he remembered that they had talked about this colloquialism before. He looked back at Dean who was watching with amusement as Castiel stopped himself for responding literally. “You didn’t answer my call,” Castiel said. “I have important news.”

“Let’s meet up with Sammy first,” Dean said.

Back in the hotel room, Castiel made Dean and Sam settle down onto the edge of one of the beds before he told them the news. They had been in this town for three whole days without a case and were very restless. Castiel stood in front of them and they looked up at him expectantly.

“I’ve been informed as to where Raphael will be next,” Castiel said seriously. “He’s going after the lustful humans and the demons that feed off of them in West Palm Beach, Florida.”

“Summer break, baby!” Dean whooped and Sam grinned.

“What is summer break?” Castiel asked.

“It’s a time when college kids flock to tropical places for lots of ‘lustful’ activities,” Dean explained.

“ _Some_ college kids,” Sam corrected.

“It’s a good time,” Dean said wistfully.

“You didn’t even go to college!” Sam laughed.

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t have summer and spring break!” Dean exclaimed with a chuckle.

Castiel sort of understood now. Knowing Dean’s love of scantily clad females and alcohol, he put two and two together.

“When will he be there?” Sam asked.

“Within a week,” Castiel replied. Finally, a sentence he understood completely.

“It’ll take about a day or two to drive there from here,” Dean calculated.

“We should get there as soon as possible. I should fly you there,” Castiel said. He was impatient and wanted to get there before Raphael. While he was supposedly going to be there within a week, three hours was within a week. Five minutes was within a week. He wanted to get there and try to evacuate the people safely before they were all eliminated just in case he was unable to stop Raphael. He wanted to be there before Raphael to protect the city.

Dean groaned at the idea.

“No,” Sam said. “I’m not worried about the time. We can drive.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t see a reason to get there right now.”

“We need to get there before Raphael, not just in time to stop him,” Castiel said.

Sam rolled his eyes. “You said he would be there within a week. One day isn’t going to be too late.”

“How do you know?” Castiel snapped. He felt the unease in Dean’s soul and relaxed his posture instead of smiting Sam like he kind of wanted to.

Sam shrugged again. He looked up at Castiel with a challenge in his eyes. Castiel looked into his soul. He was challenging Castiel for Dean. It was up to Dean. Go with Castiel or go with Sam?

“I hate when you fly me places,” Dean said with a wrinkled nose. “Come with me and Sammy in the Impala.”

Castiel shook his head and looked back at Sam. His eyes were narrowed and an expression of victory shone in them. He was smirking at Castiel.

“Why not, Cas?” Dean asked. “We’ll be okay on time.”

Dean was only saying that because Sam had said it confidently and he trusted Sam’s judgment on this.

“We need to get there as soon as possible. We need to evacuate the humans there,” Castiel said.

“But evacuating the people would evacuate the demons, too,” Sam said. The look of victory still in his eyes. Castiel didn’t like it. It made him angry. His fingers twitched.

“You are a demon hunter,” Castiel said coolly. “Hunt them.”

“Cas has a point,” Dean said. “A few demons for a couple thousand people is worth it.”

Castiel quirked an eyebrow at Sam. Now Castiel was feeling victorious.

“But you can evacuate the people on your own, right?” Sam asked Castiel.

Castiel couldn’t lie. “Yes.”

“Then you go evacuate the hot chicks and we’ll meet you there in a day or so,” Dean said with finality. He stood up and started packing his bag up.

Sam stood up as well. He clapped a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and grinned. The narrow eyed victorious look was back. Castiel was so angry that he took ten years off Sam’s life expectancy and made him sterile. But then he remembered that he couldn’t just go and do that to humans because they made him angry. So he fixed what he’d changed and gave him the genes for premature baldness instead.

“Call me when you arrive in West Palm Beach,” Castiel said. He looked at Dean’s soul and saw that Dean was aware of Castiel’s disappointment. Dean felt bad and sincerely wanted Castiel to go with him and Sam, but he knew that Castiel had a duty to evacuate the people from West Palm Beach.

“Will do, Cas,” Dean said cheerfully. He was trying to show Castiel that he wasn’t angry or upset, he just didn’t want to leave Sam. Castiel knew this and looked at him. Dean must have seen what he wanted to see because he smiled. Castiel nodded and flew to Florida.

<<{--}>>

Castiel didn’t dwell on his disappointment in Sam and Dean too much. He knew it wouldn’t help him catch Raphael. But the way Sam challenged him for Dean was disconcerting. There was something off about it but Castiel couldn’t pin point what exactly it was. Something made him feel like it was Sam challenging Dean’s loyalty to Castiel. Which wasn’t fair, because Dean would need to be literally told about the challenge before he acted accordingly. And nothing about Dean’s soul suspected a challenge. Castiel also felt that maybe Sam was distracting Castiel. Maybe he was trying to make it appear as though he was challenging Castiel for Dean when he was instilling doubt in Castiel.

Castiel stood on the street in West Palm Beach. There were people everywhere dressed in shorts, tank tops, and sandals. Everyone glistened with sweat under the afternoon sun. There was a line out the door of an ice cream shop. As Castiel walked down the street he realized that the reason for the slight clothing was not only to keep cool in the heat, but to attract a mate, as well. He could smell the pheromones and hormones as he walked along the crowded sidewalk. Everyone’s soul practically quivered with lust and Castiel felt as though he needed to set these young people right. He resisted the urge to Save them all and located the center of town.

The center of town was a Historical Society that had been almost completely ignored all summer. No school trips were scheduled to visit, and no history buffs dared to enter the city at such a time of year. It seemed to Castiel that these people had left their educations and morals at home. The only time anyone had entered the Historical Society Building all summer was when the café across the street had reached its capacity and people were desperate for air conditioning. Castiel entered the building and was welcomed with a gust of cold air. He had regulated the temperature of his vessel so he hadn’t become hot in the Florida summer sun, but the breeze of cool air reminded him of flying.

He felt around the area and didn’t become aware of any angelic presence. In fact, no angels besides him had ever been inside the building. Two demons had in the past, but they had moved on. Feeling nothing out of the ordinary, Castiel pretended to be a surveyor of the displays.

After spending two hours looking around the building and pretending to be interested in what the curator was saying, Castiel left. Castiel went to the beach. He had never been to the beach. He stood back where the sand began. The toes of his shoes sunk into the sand. He looked out to the humans near the water. Some were lounging on towels and blankets, listening to music, and some were playing games. There were many people screaming and splashing and laughing in the water. Castiel smiled and soaked in the joy that most were exuding. What most humans didn’t know was that just being joyful was the strongest form of worship. No words, gospel, or books could compare to a full laugh, a smile, or play. While many of the humans before him on that beach were intoxicated or were looking for intercourse, they were joyful.

The salty wind from the ocean tousled his hair and made his coat flap about his legs. He was aware of the stares his appearance caused, but he didn’t care. His senses were raised, waiting to detect angelic presence, but he was relaxed.

 _Cas, I feel bad. Come get us._ Was a prayer from Dean. _This is Dean, by the way_. Castiel smiled. Castiel knew who it was. His prayer came in his voice.

 _Dean who_? Castiel sent back. He knew sending a prayer back to humans was uncomfortable to them but he wasn’t exactly happy with Dean. And his response was more of a joke with angels than humorous to a human. Angels often joked that humans didn’t address their prayers; they assumed the angels and God would automatically know who was praying. While it was true that angels did automatically know, humans didn’t know that, so their confidence and self importance was humorous to angels.

 _Dean Winchester. Cas, I’m really sorry. I should have gone with you._ His voice was sincere.

 _It’s alright. I understand that you didn’t want to leave Sam_. Castiel replied.

 _Can you come get me and Sammy? Your voice makes my head itchy on the inside._

Castiel grinned broadly and pulled out his cellular phone and dialed Dean.

“Yyyyellow,” Dean said as a greeting. Castiel waited a second and realized that Dean didn’t mean a color.

“What?” Castiel asked.

“You know, like hello, but not- OKAY I’ll never say it again,” Dean said. Castiel heard Sam laughing in the background.

“Where are you?” Castiel asked. He ignored Dean’s strangeness.

Dean gave him the address of the gas station they were stopped at and Castiel flew to them. Sam was filling the tank of the Impala and Dean was hanging up the phone as Castiel appeared next to him. Dean didn’t startle, but Sam did. Sam’s soul was resentful and unhappy and he wouldn’t look at Castiel.

“Hey, can you fly the Impala there, too?” Dean asked Castiel.

“I would rather not,” Castiel said. It would require more energy he wanted to spare if they were to be fighting Raphael.

Dean almost pouted and his soul matched. He loved that car. It was basically his home and Castiel knew that. “We can store it here somewhere safe,” he said.

“Fine,” Dean huffed.

They parked the Impala in a 24 hour Wal-Mart parking lot and Dean stroked the frame. “See you later, baby,” he said fondly to his car.

Castiel touched Dean and Sam’s foreheads and flew them to West Palm Beach. When they landed Dean and Sam were both lightheaded and agitated. Castiel allowed them to wait a few moments and collect themselves before he lead them into the coffee shop across from the Historical Society.

Sam complained about waiting for Raphael when it could be days before he showed up. But Castiel explained that they had to stay aware. Raphael probably knew that there was a spy within his garrison somewhere and once he made a plan he was probably going act on it quickly before any of it got back to Castiel.

Dean and Sam ordered drinks and pastries as they waited. Castiel watched as both of them took delight in good food. He remembered the satisfaction of eating a burger when Famine caused Jimmy to crave meat. Part of him wished he was allowed to have those desires but he knew that yearning to be human like was grounds to Fall. So, instead, he drank in Dean and Sam’s happiness like they drank their sweetened coffee.

The coffee shop was just about to close and the Historical Society had been closed for hours when Castiel felt the presence of other angels. He felt three lower level angels nearby and he jumped up, making Dean and Sam start. “They’re here. Three low level angels,” he told Dean and Sam.

The three of them rushed out of the café and across the street. They circled around to the back and Castiel flew them into the locked building. The angels were luckily in vessels. They were beginning to draw sigils on the walls in blood from ornate bowls.

“Stop!” Castiel yelled.

The angels stop to look at Castiel fearfully.

“Our orders are to eliminate the living beings of this town,” one angel said. The three angels were visibly frightened of Castiel and they didn’t look directly at him.

Castiel looked into their souls. Two of them were coerced into joining Raphael’s garrison through threats and did not truly believe in his cause. One was completely devoted to Raphael and would immediately report back to him given the opportunity. Castiel pulled the angel killing sword from his coat. He moved as quickly as he could and killed the angel loyal to Raphael before any of them had a chance to react. A white light poured from the angel’s eyes and mouth and Castiel hoped Dean and Sam had closed their eyes.

“Why are you here?” Castiel asked the two remaining angels who were trembling where they stood.

“Our orders were to destroy this city and clean it of the lust and greed that fill it,” the male angel replied. “Many demons feed off of the sin here.”

“These humans were given the free will and choice to do what they want with their lives. We must respect their God given decisions even if they are shameful,” Castiel said. “If God did not want them to be able to choose sin then he would not have given them the ability.”

Castiel felt the resolve to follow Raphael’s orders faltering in the two angels.

“We must put a stop to Raphael’s plans or all of the human race will be eradicated. God does not want his creations to be destroyed otherwise he would have told us all,” Castiel continued. “Come with me.”

“Yes,” the female angel said. Her soul was calmed and she looked directly at Castiel. She was hopeful. Castiel stepped forward and touched her forehead. He gave her the directions to his garrison with all of the information she would need to pass through the gates. She flew away with a serene smile.

“No,” the male angel said. Castiel looked into his soul. He was a fearful and cowardly angel. He wanted nothing to do with neither Castiel nor Raphael, but Raphael had threatened him. He was going to stay on Raphael’s side.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said. He felt Dean shift behind him from foot to foot impatiently. Castiel heard Dean’s heart beating quickly with anticipation of a fight. Dean wanted to fight. Wanted to move. Needed to do _something_. Castiel turned and tossed Dean the sword. Dean’s eyes lit up.

Dean wielded the sword before the male angel. Castiel moved Sam back and they watched as Dean fought the angel. Castiel knew that Dean was capable of defeating the angel but he waited and watched carefully anyways. He felt Sam’s confusion and nervousness but didn’t care because he was angry with him. Sam tried to step forwards to help Dean when Dean was thrown to the floor but Castiel held him back. Dean jumped up quickly and continued to fight the angel.

Moments later Dean gave a yell of effort and swung the sword at the angel, slashing at his chest and then stabbing into him. Pride swelled through both Dean and Castiel as the white light burst through the room and the empty vessel fell to the ground. Dean turned to Castiel and Sam and smiled. “Crisis averted!” he said joyously.

Sam cleaned the partially drawn sigils off the walls and Castiel disposed of the empty vessels. Dean cleaned the sword and chatted happily to Sam and Castiel about how awesome that fight was. To Castiel it was no different than a typical human bar brawl, but he allowed Dean the pleasure of gloating. Because defeating those who meant harm was one of those things he cared about deeply.

<<{--}>>

After finishing up at the Historical Society, Dean insisted on going to the beach. It was dark and there were bonfires scattered up and down the coast. There was different music playing along the shore and whenever the breeze blew they could hear strings of notes carried on the wind with laughter. Once they hit the sand, Dean and Sam bent down to take off their shoes and socks. Castiel watched them curiously.

“You take off your shoes in the sand, Cas,” Dean said happily. “Sand in your shoes is really uncomfortable. And cool sand feels great!”

Castiel Willed off his shoes and socks and carried them like Dean and Sam did as they walked towards the water. Dean had been right, the cool sand felt strange but good on his bare feet. It was odd walking in sand but they made their way to the water’s edge. The water was cool against his feet and it wetted the bottom of his pant legs. He watched as water swirled around him and then went back out to sea. Little shells, rocks, and bits of seaweed washed to shore. He was marveling at how beautiful the ocean was when he saw two flashes of skin go rushing passed him on either side. His skin prickled for a fight but he felt no presence of demons or angels. Then just as quickly as he stiffened to fight, he realized it was Dean and Sam in their boxers running passed him into the ocean. He relaxed and felt their joy as they both dove into a dark wave. Their adrenaline from the unknown ocean coursed through their veins.

“Come on, Cas!” Dean yelled to him.

Castiel smiled and shook his head.

“The water is great!” Dean continued.

Sam looked at Castiel and his soul took on a condescending thrum. Castiel was filled with annoyance and anger again. He Willed off his clothes so that he too was in his underwear. He looked down to see what he was wearing because he’d never looked at what Jimmy wore. He knew the trench coat, the suit jacket, the white shirt, the tie, the pants, and the shoes because they were visible, but he’d never looked under those. Now he was standing on an empty strip of beach in a pair of dark blue boxer briefs with his toes buried in the sand and his favorite human beckoning him into the ocean. He looked up at the stars and the waxing moon and smiled. He thanked his Father for the strangeness of humans and waded after Dean and Sam into the ocean.

Things were going to be alright, Castiel just knew it. There was no way that he was going to allow humans to be completely eliminated from the Earth. There was no way that Dean and Sam were going allow humans to be completely eliminated from the Earth. Things were going to be alright, Castiel knew it. Because Dean was smiling so brightly as Castiel swam out to him (after reading his mind and learning how), because Sam was perturbed by Castiel swimming between him and Dean, because Castiel had soaked up the joy of the humans on the beach like they soaked up the sun’s rays, because he had another angel in his garrison, because they had saved all of the living things in West Palm Beach, because swimming felt strange and wonderful. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

                “Seriously dude, I’m Buzz and you’re Woody. It just ain’t fair,” Dean said to Sam around a mouthful of spaghetti.

                Sam smirked and chuckled. “How do you figure?”

                “They’re both toys who get left places around the house by Andy. He just throws ‘em on the floor and expects them to still be there when he comes back. And when he does come back, he picks ‘em up and shoves ‘em around and makes them do shit. Cas is Andy. We’re Buzz and Woody,” Dean said before shoving an entire meatball in his mouth. The corners of his mouth lifted in a grin as he chewed. He was proud of his analogy.

                Sam’s nose was scrunched in revulsion at Dean’s horrible table manners. He put down his fork and stopped eating his seafood linguini. One would think that after all those years he’d be used to it, but there was no getting used to Dean’s level of disgusting. “I think you need to lay off the pay per view.”

                They were staying at a Hilton Garden Inn near West Palm Beach, where Cas had left them. Cas had been gone a week without contact to Dean or Sam. Dean wanted to go somewhere, anywhere, besides sitting and doing nothing in a hotel room. He had resorted to watching almost endless movies because they took his mind out of reality for a while. Most recently, he had watched _Toy Story_.

                The hot waitress of their hotel’s restaurant, who had introduced herself as Luce (Dean had outright laughed), came back to their table. “Is everything tasting alright for you boys?” she asked. She eyed both Sam and Dean with an expression of lust.

                “Perfect,” Dean said after swallowing.

                Sam nodded in agreement.

                “Great,” Luce said and looked back to the bar before continuing. “Hey, I get off here at eleven. Are you two interested in doing something later?”

                Dean and Sam exchanged looks of amusement. “What did you have in mind?” Dean asked her. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.

                “Maybe dancing? I know a good club out of the way of tourists,” she said, flicking her brown eyes between Sam and Dean.

                Sam and Dean looked at each other again. “We don’t dance,” Dean said.

                “I do,” Sam said. He looked at Luce.

                “What?” Dean laughed.

                “I… dance,” Sam said, clearly unsure of his own words.

                “Well, one is better than none, I guess,” Luce said with a slow smile. “Meet you down here at the bar at eleven?”

                “Sure thing,” Sam said and grinned at her.

                She set down their bill and gave Sam a wink before walking back to the bar.

                “Looks like Woody found his Little Bo Peep,” Dean said before taking a sip of his Pepsi to hide his smirk.

                “Shut up,” Sam laughed. “I’m getting restless here. Maybe dancing will help.”

                Dean barked out a laugh that ended with “Oh, Sammy. I’ve seen you dance. Flailing your long ass arms around doesn’t constitute as dancing. It’s an assault.”

                “Yeah, well, when I’m not here in the morning, don’t worry about me,” Sam said teasingly.

                “Have fun lassoing in chicks, Woody,” Dean said before standing up, leaving Sam with the bill.

<<{--}>>

                The next day, Dean and a sunglasses wearing Sam, had breakfast at a nearby greasy spoon. Sam hadn’t come back after going out with the girl Dean had been calling Loose Luce the night before and had left Dean alone to watch movies and porn all evening.

                Sam refused to give up any sordid details over breakfast and Dean was disappointed.

                “Have you heard from Cas?” Sam asked instead of answering one of Dean’s more pointed questions.

                “No, I haven’t,” Dean replied. His expression went from Teasing Sammy to brow scrunching, jaw twitching worry. “It’s been a week.”

                Sam looked down at his mostly untouched breakfast.

                Dean rationalized. “He’s probably busy being an angelic leader and all.”

                Dean was really worried. While he hadn’t tried contacting Cas, Cas had said he’d only be gone a day or two. That was a week ago and now Dean was getting anxious. There was a huge war going on and Cas was right in the middle of it. Dean feared the worse but knew Cas had probably gotten distracted. Maybe all of his house plants died while he was on Earth or some shit like that. Maybe he had met a girl angel. Maybe he was bored with Dean and Sam. Dean knew that time moved differently in Heaven so maybe Castiel had just lost track of Earth time. But mostly Dean feared Raphael had him.

                It was too early in the game to pronounce Cas as dead or missing. It didn’t stop Dean from jumping every time he thought he saw a tan coat out of the corner of his eye, though. His heart was still racing from the last time that happened as he and Sam walked back to the hotel. Obviously, he was just worried about getting the location of where Raphael was going to be next. It had nothing to do with him worrying about Cas. He was restless. That was all.

                “Sam, I’m going to take a walk, I’ll see you later,” Dean said distractedly.

                Sam said something to him but Dean wasn’t listening. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked into the congested tourist strip of West Palm Beach. There were bodies closing in on him on all sides but he pushed forwards. Everyone was laughing and talking in groups. While he was close in age with most of the people there, he still felt disconnected from them. At one time he had felt at home around people that statistics declared his peers, but not now. Now all he saw was People He Saved and they were just numbers. It wasn’t that he felt _above_ them, superior to them, but he felt like they all owed him more respect than to cut him off on the sidewalk. He and Sam had never stuck around much after they saved someone’s life for that reason. It was a hunter’s curse. Dean figured it was one of the reasons Sam never went back to see Sarah, and why he didn’t go back to see Cassie.

                Dean found himself heading towards the beach. The sun was blaring down on him and his thin black t-shirt and holey jeans felt like a straight jacket. He was sweating and he felt his skin tightening with sunburn on his forearms, nose, neck, and ears. The air was hot even as it entered his lungs and smelled like sun tan lotion and salt. He took off his shoes and socks and walked along the beach for a little while. He dodged drunken college chicks that really should be nowhere near a body of water, a stray volleyball, and three fights.

                He decided that trying to contact Cas just to check in was a good idea. Even if the conversation was three seconds long and consisted of Cas telling Dean to not call him ever again would satisfy Dean. A three second phone call wherein Cas sasses him would tell Dean that Cas was alive. And that’s all he needed.

                Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Cas’s number. It rang and rang and rang until Castiel’s awkward voicemail picked up (Dean was going to have to help him fix that). He waited and tried again. Still, no answer. A bad feeling rested at the bottom of his belly. Something was wrong; he just knew it. So, he tried another approach- praying.

                _Cas, it’s Dean Winchester. Is everything okay? Where are you?_ He waited and when there was no answer he continued. _You better not be in any kind of trouble without me there to help you. You better be okay. Sammy and I are still at that hotel you left us in. Let me know you’re okay._

                It wasn’t that Dean was needy or pushy. He simply had too few friends to lose. And Castiel was his friend. His friend who just so happened to hold the fate of the world in his trench coat pocket. Castiel wasn’t just important to Dean; he was important to everybody. So it was totally okay and acceptable for Dean to call him at ever decreasing time intervals throughout the day.

                Dean eventually went back to the hotel to meet Sam that evening. When Dean walked into the room, Sam was lounging on his bed with his sock clad feet propped up on pillows and his laptop on his stomach. Dean stopped in the doorway and noticed that the pillows under Sam’s feet were the ones from _his_ bed, and Sam was eating the rest of _his_ Cool Ranch Doritos. He made a sound of shocked disapproval and attracted Sam’s attention.

                “What?” Sam asked, yanking out his earbuds.

                Dean only gestured to the scene before him looking scandalized and outraged.

                “I did a lot of dancing last night,” Sam said with a shrug and a glance at the pillows under his feet.

                Dean could only glare because any words that would come out of his mouth would only induce various Bitch Faces from Sam. Anything Dean wanted to say would only end in pouting. He went and sat down heavily at the table.

                “Any word from Cas?” Sam asked, crunching on a Dorito.

                “No,” Dean said. The mention of Cas sent a jolt of fear through his bones. “I’ve been calling and praying to him basically nonstop since this morning and he hasn’t responded.”

                “I’m sure everything’s fine,” Sam said with a casual sigh.

                Sam’s nonchalance irked Dean. Sam was relaxing, eating ( _Dean’s_ ) Doritos, browsing the internet with his feet up (on _Dean’s motherfucking pillows_ ) while Dean sat there, terrified for Castiel. Dean was sure that if anybody was going to care more than him it would be Sam. The kid was made of empathy, puppies, glitter, and rainbows for fuck’s sake! Something _had_ to be wrong with Sam for him to not give a shit about the angel who was supposed to be saving the world. Dean was going to keep his mouth shut about it though. If Sam was going to go dark side, Dean didn’t want to provoke it without Cas there to help.

                “Have you called Bobby to tell him what’s going on?” Dean asked.

                “No. What would I tell him?” Sam asked, still looking at his computer screen.

                “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that _we’re saving the world again_!” Dean sassed.

                Sam shrugged. He sat up, moving his laptop onto the bed, and pulled out his cell phone.

                “And ask him to do research for some omens around the towns Raphael took. There must be something that we missed,” Dean said.

                While Sam was on the phone with Bobby, Dean looked over the newspapers from the weeks leading up to the day Raphael’s angels showed up again. He’d looked over the weather forecasts, the stories, and even the comics again and again but he wasn’t finding anything. As far as he could see, there were no blatant omens. There was nothing helpful on the internet, and nobody in West Palm Beach had mentioned anything. Dean figured that if somebody knew anything or suspected anything, they would have spoken out and at least some of the people would have left. But if anything, the beach had only become more crowded since they’d arrived.

                Bobby had not been surprised to hear from Sam when they called him days earlier. Apparently, Sam had stayed with Bobby for some time since he got back. This sent a stab of hurt through Dean’s body. Sam had spoken to everyone but him. Dean thought that he had mattered more to Sam than that. Yeah, he got that Sam wanted him to have a nice, safe life with Lisa and Ben, and he appreciated it so much. But he would have been more at peace with his life with them and his decisions if he knew that Sammy was alive. Sammy could have lived at the house that was for sale down the street. There could have been Sunday dinners and Monday night football. Barbeques. Fuck, there could have been Scrabble tournaments. Maybe Dean would have turned Cas down for the case if he knew that Sammy was alive and coming over for Thursday night poker. But that was all a big What If.

                Sam told Bobby about Raphael’s plan and what they were doing to stop it. Bobby agreed to do more extensive research on any omens around the areas that were taken. After hanging up with Bobby, Sam expressed to Dean that he was feeling confident in their case. “We’ve got Bobby helping us, Cas is in Heaven finding out everything he can, and we’re down here ready to do some fighting,” Sam said brightly.

                This baffled Dean because they were completely in the dark on everything concerning the case. They were hidden away in a hotel room with _nothing_ besides a huge ass pay per view and room service bill and absolutely _no clue_ where Raphael was going next. Hell, their biggest player was missing in action. Without Cas, they were scrap bookers without opposable thumbs. So, Dean didn’t respond to Sam’s statement and muttered something about going to bed early instead.

                Dean did fall asleep but he woke up what felt like a blink later. The room was completely dark and he no longer heard the hum of Sam’s laptop fan. Dean didn’t know what woke him up from such a deep sleep. He looked blearily at Sam’s bed and saw him sound asleep. Dean gripped the knife under his pillow and concentrated on listening as hard as he could. He heard Sam’s even, deep breathing and when he listened harder he heard short and staggered breaths from near the end of his bed. It sounded like every breath pained the breather. Dean quickly sat up on his bed and was about to wield the knife in his hand but he stopped. It was Cas.

                Dean’s breath hitched when he saw the blood. Cas’s eyes were pleading and terrified and then they were rolling back in his head as he fell to the ground at the foot of Dean’s bed. Dean dropped the knife and jumped out of bed. He ran around to where Cas was crumpled on the floor.

                “Cas? Cas! What’s wrong? What happened to you?!” Dean demanded as he kneeled next to the angel. Dean tapped Cas’s face, trying to wake him up. Why wasn’t he healing himself? Why was he hurt?

                “Raph…ael,” Cas coughed. Dean could see the blood coating his tongue and teeth.

                “Raphael did this to you?” Dean questioned.

                Cas nodded and winced. He raised a hand shakily and waved it to turn on the light. Then he pointed to his chest where his white shirt was completely soaked with dark red blood.

                “Can’t you heal yourself?” Dean asked, his panic rising.

                “New weapon,” Cas choked out. He turned his head and spit out blood.

                There was a new weapon that could hurt angels? Raphael used it on Cas? Dean’s vision turned red with anger and he looked down at the broken angel on the floor in front him. Before he could go hunt down Raphael and _rip his fucking head off_ , he had to help Castiel. Dean pushed Cas’s trench coat and suit jacket out of the way. He gingerly peeled away the blue tie that was plastered with blood to Cas’s shirt and tossed it over Cas’s shoulder. There were thin slices in Cas’s white shirt where the knife had entered his chest. Dean, as carefully as he could, unbuttoned Cas’s shirt and moved it to either side of his chest. The entire time Cas groaned and hissed in pain as every breath and movement hurt him.

                Dean looked at the wounds. They would be fatal to any human because of blood loss. But Cas wasn’t human and was probably replenishing his own blood supply. The cuts were sloppy because no doubt Cas fought back, but they were deep. All of the visible flesh of Cas’s chest was covered in blood and some had even pooled in his navel. First things first, he needed to clear away the blood.

                “I-I’m going to need the first aid kit and some towels,” Dean said, his voice hoarse. He started to stand up, his hands covered in blood and leaving prints on the bed as he used it to help himself up on shaky legs. But before he stood up completely, there was everything he needed right next to him. “Thanks,” he said and kneeled next to Cas again.

                Dean reached for the clean, white towels and began delicately wiping away the blood. Even the littlest bit of pressure brought involuntary tears to Cas’s eyes. Dean’s hands were shaking. Cas was never supposed to be hurt like this. Cas was supposed to be able to heal himself. Cas was supposed to be their unbeatable leader. Now he was lying quivering, crying, bleeding, and _dying_ on a hotel room floor with nobody but Dean to stitch him up.

                Dean glanced over to the still sleeping Sam. He was opening his mouth to wake Sam up when Cas cut him off. “No, not Sam. Just you.”

                Dean didn’t know why. And right then he didn’t care because Cas needed him. So he took a deep breath and reached for the rubbing alcohol.

                “Maybe you should drink another liquor store before we start this,” Dean said, holding a clean towel with rubbing alcohol on it.

                Cas’s lips twitched and he shook his head.

                “This is going to hurt like Hell. Actually, probably worse than Hell. You ready?” Dean asked him.

                Cas nodded and swallowed hard.

                Dean swiped the alcohol over the nastiest looking cut. Cas cried out in pain and slammed a fist down on the floor. Dean paused for a second and looked at Cas’s face. “Want me to keep going or call 911?”

                “You,” Cas gasped.

                “Alright, but you better not hold a grudge against me for this later,” Dean said, trying to lighten the mood. It was a coping mechanism. Very Freudian. Give him a break.

                He cleaned up the deepest cut just above Cas’s heart. Cas was groaning in a horrible way and (Dean noticed after the numbness set in) gripping Dean’s left knee tightly in one hand. His hand was hot against Dean’s knee despite the blood loss. The heels of Cas’s feet dug into the floor as he fought the urge to shrink away from the rubbing alcohol. When Dean finished cleaning the cuts, Cas had mostly stopped making horrible groaning sounds and had the hand that wasn’t gripping Dean’s knee over his face, leaving a bloody smear.

 

                “I’m going to stitch up the cuts now, Cas, okay?” Dean asked.

                Cas only nodded from under his bloody hand.

                Dean threaded the needle with shaking fingers and began sewing up Cas like a throw pillow. Cas’s jaw was set tightly as Dean carefully and slowly stitched him up. His breathing was labored still and hitched every time the needle when into his skin. When Dean was done stitching him up, he used a generous amount of cream antiseptic medication on each cut. When the cool cream came in contact with Cas’s skin, the muscles in his stomach jumped. Dean watched it happen every time, amused to see that the angel had visible abs. Because he would have never guessed that the nerd angel was fit. The grip Cas had on Dean’s knee was loosened but still present.

                “You still with me?” Dean asked as he ripped open a bandage.

                “Yes,” Cas replied gruffly, still hidden under his hand.

                “Good. I’m almost finished,” Dean said and put some folded gauze over the cuts and then bandages over the gauze. “Can we get some warm, soapy water and another towel?” He asked Cas.

                Both requested items appeared with the rest. Dean used the hand towel and water to clean away the blood that had dried on Cas’s skin. He swirled the towel and took most of the blood from Cas’s navel and the drips that led to the top of his pants. Cas was almost relaxed now, his breathing was closer to normal. Dean was wary of his relaxed state.

                “How are you doing?” Dean asked.

                “Not well,” Cas replied.

                “Should I call 911? You know I’m not a doctor,” Dean said and looked to his cell phone on the nightstand.

                “No, don’t call anybody. I’m not doing well because I can’t heal myself. This is very painful,” Castiel replied.

                “Why can’t you heal yourself, Cas?” Dean asked. “You still have your mojo.”

                “I still have all of my power except the weapon Raphael used prevents me from healing myself,” Cas explained. His voice was agitated and tense with pain.

                “Can’t you have one of your angels heal you?” Dean asked. He pulled Cas’s bloody hand away from his face and used the soapy water and towel to clean him. He was sure to get around Cas’s nails and between each finger.

                “No, no angelic power can be used. I am sorry to burden you,” Castiel said.

                “Cas, you’re not a burden. I was just trying to make sense of the situation,” Dean said truthfully. “It didn’t make sense as to why you came to me instead of having someone else heal you in a second.”

                “I trust you,” Cas said.

                There was blood on his face, smeared over his eyes and the tops of his cheeks. Dean knew that Cas could clean the blood off on his own, but he felt as though he needed to do it. He wiped away the blood from around Cas’s eyes slowly. Streaks of salty tears ran from the corners of his eyes into the hair at his temples. Dean cleaned those away too. He avoided looking directly at Cas’s eyes as he did this.

                “Why do you trust me?” Dean asked, his voice was barely more than a whisper.

                Castiel was quiet for a few moments. “Because you care. Not just about the case, or beating Raphael. You care about the _people_ we will save. You don’t want glory or recognition. You want a world for Ben to grow up in and a good place to get pie. And I know you don’t like it, but I can see into your soul and I know what and who you care about. You care about good things. Your soul is made of all good things. I trust you.”

                Dean looked towards Sam.

                “His soul is confusing,” Cas said, knowing what Dean was thinking. “I can not get a good read on him. It is frustrating. I do not trust him. I do not want him to know of tonight or of the weapon Raphael holds.”

                Dean nodded, still not looking directly at Cas. He looked at his own blood streaked hands. With a blink, they were clean. “Thanks,” Dean said, still not looking at Cas.

                “No, Dean, thank _you_ ,” Cas said and slowly sat up. He looked down at his body and cleaned his clothes of the blood and mended his shirt, but left it unbuttoned.

                Dean looked at Cas’s chest. The cuts were covered with bandages that stuck to his smooth skin. It was painful just to look at. Dean ached seeing an angel’s body torn up like that. He ached seeing the blood and agony covering the perfect skin of his angel. It just wasn’t right. But Cas came to _him_ for help when he needed it most. Cas wanted _Dean_ to stitch him up in the dead of night on the dirty floor of a hotel. Cas let _Dean_ see him broken and vulnerable because he _trusted_ Dean. Dean could have sworn his heart grew three sizes that night. He was still staring at Cas’s chest and he didn’t even think about his actions when he saw a drip of blood escaping from under one of the bandages and he reached to swipe it away. After he’d done it, he looked up at Cas, hoping Cas wasn’t looking at him like What The Fuck. He wasn’t. His eyes were hooded from pain and exhaustion. He was propped up on extended arms with his palms flat against the floor and his shoulders up to his ears. They locked eyes and Dean could have sworn he felt Cas probing around in his mind.

                “So, uh,” Dean cleared his throat and stood up. “Tell me about your day.” He reached a hand down to help Cas up, but in a blink he was standing in front of Dean.

                Cas looked at Dean confusedly for a second, like he was wondering where Dean had even _been_ the last hour and forty five minutes. Then he figured Dean out. “I was with my garrison when we received word of a surprise attack from one of my spies. This was five days ago, so had there not been an attack, I would have been back here on time. We fought for four days before Raphael himself joined us. He does not fight amongst his garrison; he sends them out to die for him.” Cas was practically vibrating with rage and the nauseated feeling crept through Dean’s body again. He took a step back to relieve himself of some of the angel’s wrath. “Raphael and I were fighting head to head. I had the sword we use to kill angels and I was, as you would say, ‘in the lead.’ But I was caught off guard and lost the sword just before Raphael stabbed me in the chest with the dagger he had been holding. I had not thought that the weapon was as powerful as the sword. I figured he was just threatening me to give up.”

                “You lost the sword?” Dean asked, his heart sinking.

                “Yes, and I’m sorry. You have lost many important things,” Cas said as if he were trying to point out Dean’s hypocrisy.

                “No, I get that, I was just thinking about how screwed we are now. Do you have any idea where it could be?” Dean asked him.

                “I found it,” Castiel said as if it were obvious.

                “You just said that you’d lost it,” Dean pointed out.

                “I had lost it. But I found it. I was not finished with my story,” Cas said and put his hands on his hips and looked at Dean like he was an impatient child.

                “Okay, okay, finish your damn story,” Dean said with a gesture that said The Floor’s All Yours.

                “Raphael and his entire garrison left as soon as I was injured. They must have figured me for dead. I had thought I was dying as well. So, I used the rest of my strength to race them to the sword, which had fallen to Earth, and brought it back here. Though, I had not foreseen the damage that my true form would have transferred to my vessel. Hence, the blood. Now I’m finished with my story,” Castiel said with a slight smirk.

                “You brought the sword back here?” Dean asked, and looked around the room.

                Cas pointed to the sword which had been about three feet away from Cas and Dean when Dean was stitching him up. “Yes, it has been there this whole time,” Cas said, seemingly reading Dean’s mind. Or he just really knew Dean well. Either way, Dean felt kind of silly for not noticing the gleaming sword three feet away from him.

                “Sorry, I was kind of distracted by the bare chested and bleeding angel on my floor,” Dean said defensively. He stooped to pick up the bloodied supplies he had used on Cas.

                Castiel was silent for a few minutes as Dean put away the first aid kit and threw the bloodied towels into the tub in the bathroom. He waited for Dean to come out of the bathroom and Dean found him sitting on the edge of Dean’s bed. “The magic in the dagger is different than the magic in the sword. I don’t know how it is different. I have no knowledge of any magic that can take away an angel’s ability to heal magically,” Cas said to Dean.

                “Could it be demon magic? Maybe something Lucifer cooked up and sold to Raphael?” Dean asked, sitting next to Cas on the bed.

                “No, I doubt it. Raphael is trying to eliminate the impurities on Earth, demons included, so it is doubtful that Lucifer aided him in any way. We must figure it out, Dean,” Cas said.

                “We can begin research in the morning. We’ll even get Bobby on it, if that’s alright,” Dean said optimistically. His optimism was forced because he knew that if an angel who was God knows how old didn’t know what it was, Bobby probably didn’t have a book on it in his library.

                Dean stifled a yawn but Cas noticed it. “Research can begin tomorrow, yes. And Bobby Singer’s help would be greatly appreciated. He is a good man with a large amount of books,” Cas stood up. “Dean, I can not thank you enough for helping me.” His eyes were earnest and grateful.

                Dean stood up as well and looked at Cas’s shoulder instead of his face. “You’re welcome, Cas.”

                “I am unsure how I am to repay you. This has never happened to me before and I’m unaware of protocol,” Cas said, a hint of awkwardness in his voice.

                 Dean had kind of missed that awkwardness. He smiled. “Just send breakfast tomorrow morning.”

                “Food?” Cas was baffled. “You save my life and I bring you waffles?”

                “Or pancakes,” Dean chuckled. “No, but seriously Cas, we need to focus on stopping Raphael. We can’t do that without you alive and kicking.”

                “Fair enough,” Castiel said. His ears turned red with embarrassment. “Good night, Dean.”

                “’Night, Cas,” Dean said just before Cas disappeared.

                Dean crawled back into his bed and was asleep before his head hit the pillows. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some sexual concepts.

 

Dean didn’t sleep for very long after Castiel left. Even his sleeping mind was plagued with questions and worry. When he woke up the sun was just beginning to bleed into the room. He showered and made coffee and sat down at the table. He wanted to research the new dagger that Raphael used on Cas but didn’t know where to begin. He sipped his coffee and flipped through the old volumes he and Sam owned.

                He read through the factual and mythical weapons made by demons, used to kill demons, may have been used by a demon at one point… but nothing about killing angels. Dean felt as though this new weapon could not have been made by angels. Something about it not allowing an angel to heal felt demon like to Dean. Even though Dean had little faith in angels, he had even less faith in demons. Besides, only abominations would dare forge a weapon like that to be used against Cas.

                Dean had gotten nowhere in his research before Sam woke up. Dean was flipping through a worn out book on demon lore that he had “borrowed” from Bobby when Sam sat up and stretched. Dean watched him over the top of his book. Cas didn’t trust Sam because his soul was confusing. How can a soul be confusing? Cas had said that Dean’s was easy to read and Dean didn’t think Sam was anymore messed up than him. So, that had to mean bad things about Sam, right? Dean hoped to far away places that it didn’t. He couldn’t lose Sammy again, especially when he just got back. He watched Sam stretch and noticed just how many muscles were hiding under that t-shirt. It made Dean uncomfortable because Sammy had once been his stringy little brother and there had been no doubt that Dean could take him if necessary. Now, there was not such assurance. Dean was pretty sure Sam could take him.

                “Morning,” Sam grunted to Dean before dragging himself into the bathroom.

                “Morning,” Dean replied.

                While Sam was in the bathroom, Dean closed the books that were sitting out on the table. Sam came out of the bathroom and fixed himself a cup of coffee.  “How long have you been up?” Sam asked after a sip of coffee.

                Dean shrugged “Oh, maybe twenty minutes,” he lied.

                “What are you doing?” Sam asked and sat at the table across from Dean. He looked at the books on the table curiously.

                “Researching omens for why Raphael is choosing cities,” Dean lied again.

                “Oh, good, that’s what I planned to spend the day doing. I wanted to go to the library and that church down the road to talk to the pastor there,” Sam chatted happily. “And there’s the college in town where we can talk to some professors.”

                Dean only nodded.

                And that was exactly what they did that day. After breakfast downstairs at the hotel restaurant (where, thankfully, Loose Luce was not working), Sam and Dean headed to the library. Dean hated libraries. He really did. It’s not that he didn’t like books and people who read books; he didn’t like the quiet and the smell. The smell of old books grossed him out while it delighted Sam.  He hated whispering because it made this throat dry and itchy and he felt like a chick whispering secrets to her friends. He hated that he couldn’t hum and put his feet up while he read. He did like librarians, though, with all that pent up energy.

                Dean stayed with Sam for a little while as they tore up Dewey’s two hundreds. He flipped through the indexes and read a few passages here and there before the restlessness set in. Time in libraries passed like time in Hell. Sam was used to this so when Dean leaned across the table and whispered “Hey, Sammy…” all he did was raise a hand and give a little wave. Dean pushed back from the table, regretting the screeching sound the legs made against the floor. Eyes from the entire study area (including Sam’s) were on him looking annoyed. He mouthed an apology to the librarian at her desk and then made a quick beeline out the door.

                The air outside was hot and muggy but better than the stale silence inside. Dean pulled out his phone and dialed Bobby.

                “I don’t have anything yet, Dean,” answered a very agitated sounding Bobby after the third ring.

                “Neither do we. But I have something else for you to research,” Dean said.

                “Boy, I am not the only person capable of research. If you’d maybe crack a book-” Bobby started. He must have been up all night researching.

                “Wait a second, Bobby,” Dean said defensively. “This is for Cas and Sam can’t know about it.”

                “For Cas?” Bobby asked, his tone now confused.

                “Yeah, it seems like Raphael has a new toy,” Dean said. He sat on a nearby bus bench and watched the few people walking by.

                Dean told Bobby about what happened with Cas.

                “I’ll see what I can find. Are you sure it’s not angel made?” Bobby asked.

                “I really hope not,” Dean said and leaned back against the bench. The plastic coated metal was hot against his back and he started to sweat.

                “If Raphael is using it, it’s probably angel made, Dean,” Bobby said.

                “No. I don’t like the angels one bit, but I don’t think they’d make something so horrible,” Dean said.

                “You’re just saying that because Cas got hurt,” Bobby said absentmindedly, like he was already researching and he wasn’t thinking about what he was saying.

                “What?” Dean asked sharply. Now Dean was sweating more than was necessary.

                “You’re friend got hurt and now you’re mad,” Bobby said hesitantly after Dean’s tone brought him back to reality and he realized what he’d said.

                “Yeah, I’m mad that that son of a bitch hurt my friend, Bobby! You should have seen him. You should have seen the blood. You should have seen his face,” Dean said before stopping himself. He bit his lip. He was getting too worked up over a few flesh wounds.

                “Alright, alright,” Bobby said. “Now, go help your brother research or he’ll go dark side out of annoyance.”

                Dean did go back in to Sam after hanging up with Bobby. He found Sam talking with one of the librarians who was tapping away at the computer on her desk.

                “No, I don’t see anything pertaining to apocalyptic omens outside the Biblical ones. What did you say you were working on again?” the librarian was saying to Sam. She peered at him almost suspiciously. Like she was afraid she was reading too much into Sam’s question because day after day stuck in a library caused her imagination to run wild.

                Dean didn’t hear Sam’s response because his voice was lower and his back was to Dean. But, Dean knew it was probably something about “school research” or “I’m working on a book.” It seemed to satisfy the young (and a little bit hot) librarian because she smiled and apologized again.

                When Sam returned to their table he was frustrated. “There’s nothing!” he whispered angrily and threw down his notebook on the table.

                “Bobby has nothing, too,” Dean said.

                And neither did the pastor or the professor. It was late afternoon and both Sam and Dean were passed frustrated. Dean was about to declare “Fuck it! We’re going to the beach!” when Cas came back.

                “Cas!” Dean exclaimed happily as he and Sam entered their hotel room to see the angel there. Hey, he was perfectly okay getting excited to see Cas standing in his hotel room when he’s _not_ covered in blood and fainting onto the floor.

                “Dean. Sam,” Cas greeted them. His tone was all business.

                “What’s up, Cas?” Sam asked. Dean felt Sam looking strangely back and forth between him and Cas.

                “Winchester, Virginia. Tonight,” Cas said. He looked at Dean.

                “Winchester? Really?” Dean asked.

                “Yes,” Castiel replied. He stepped towards them, his movements were careful, like he was afraid he’d pull his stitches.

                “He’s mocking us,” Sam said quietly.

                “Sam, go get our weapons out of the car,” Dean said, not even looking at Sam. He needed to talk to Cas. He needed to make sure Cas was alright.

                “What?” Sam was affronted.

                “Now, Sam!” Dean demanded.

                Sam huffed in annoyance and left the room, slamming the door on his way out.

                Dean stepped closer to Castiel. “How are you doing?”

                “Much better, thank you. I still owe you a breakfast, though,” Castiel said with a slight smirk.

                “Don’t worry about it,” Dean smiled. “How are your stitches?”

                “Itchy,” Cas replied with the tiniest of pouts. “And the bandages pull at my skin. It’s not pleasant.”

                “That’s all to be expected. But how are you after all that blood loss?” Dean asked.

                “Oh, I replenished my blood supply,” Castiel said casually.

                “Right, so I called Bobby. He’s researching that dagger,” Dean said. “Did you learn anything about it?”

                “No,” Cas said with a shake of his head. “Though I concentrated more on finding out where Raphael was going next.”

                “Is he mocking us?” Dean asked. “Was Sam right?”

                “I believe so,” Castiel said sadly.

                Sam came back holding their duffle bags of weapons. “I take it we’re going with Cas?”

                “Yup, Virgin Airlines it is!” Dean said with false bravado.

                Cas gave Dean a Look before he touched his and Sam’s foreheads. With a blink they were standing on a sidewalk. Old looking storefronts lined the street.

                “We have to find a place with four walls near the center of town,” Cas said, looking around.

                “These are _all_ four walled places near the center of town,” Sam said.

                “We will have to wait until I sense the presence of Raphael’s angels before we know,” Castiel said before turning to Sam and Dean. “But I believe that this is a trap.”

                “I was thinking the same thing,” Dean said.

                “Maybe not,” Sam said. “Maybe he’s just acknowledging the fact that he knows we’re after him.”

                “And maybe he’s going to pop out of the woodwork and kill us all for trying to stop him,” Dean said. He looked agitatedly at Sam.

                “We should be prepared for a trap, nonetheless,” Cas said.

                They found an alley where they could organize their weapons and carve the angel banishing sigil into their chests the way Cas had done before. Cas carved the sigil into Dean’s chest while Sam ran to grab them coffee.

                “You’re going to need to remove your t-shirt,” Cas said to Dean.

                Dean took off his plaid button down and his t-shirt before putting the plaid shirt back on. He was going to look like _such_ a geek with his shirt all buttoned up. He left the shirt open and pulled the fabric to his sides. Cas was holding a knife from Dean’s duffle bag, waiting for Dean. Dean shoved his t-shirt into the duffle and then faced Cas. “Alright, I’m ready,” he said and gestured to his bare chest.

                Cas stepped closer and looked at Dean’s skin. “This will hurt,” Cas said then smiled at Dean. “Consider it repayment for the rubbing alcohol.”

                Dean opened his mouth to retort but there was a fiery pain on his chest. He gasped instead and looked down to see Cas cutting a careful circle. Dean hissed in pain and involuntarily stepped back until his back was flat against the alley wall. Darkness was slowly creeping up on them and the alley was all shadows except for the light out on the street. He could see a reflection of light in Cas’s eyes as he approached Dean again. “Hold still, Dean,” he said as if he wasn’t carving into Dean’s fucking chest with a knife but was actually wiping dirt off of his face or something. Dean watched as Cas pressed the blade to his chest again. His fingers gripped the gritty brick behind him and he ground his teeth around a groan. He watched Cas cut the sigil into his skin and felt the blood drip down his torso. “Oh, Cas, we need to stop meeting this way,” he ground out in in a voice that was halfway between a pain filled groan and sigh.

                Cas only smiled and continued his way too slow carving. He had smiled twice now while carving up Dean’s chest. Dean felt as though maybe Cas was getting too much enjoyment out of this. But yet again, Dean was pretty much one of the biggest pains in Cas’s angelic ass (and he knew it) so he didn’t blame him.

                When Cas stepped back to admire his work he said “All you will need to activate the sigil is to get some of your own blood on your hand and press it to the center.”

                Dean nodded. “What if you’re there?”

                “I’ve been banished before, I can handle it,” Cas said.

                “But what if you and Raphael are both banished?” Dean asked.

                “Then I will deal with it, but don’t risk us all because you don’t want to banish me,” Cas said.

                Dean didn’t say anything. He couldn’t make these kinds of promises. “You’re not carving up your chest anymore than it already is,” he said to Cas.

                Cas looked agitated. “I know. You and Sam must be able to do it then.”

                When Sam came back, Cas carved the sigil into his chest as well. But Dean could have sworn he carved the sigil bigger and deeper on Sam’s chest, drawing more blood and complaints.

                Dean and Sam buttoned up their shirts looking like the biggest geeks _ever_ and waited with Cas. It was another hour before Cas jumped to attention. “They’re here. But they are only low level angels. Still proceed with caution,” he said as Sam and Dean followed him. They stopped just outside a music store called Blind Faith. Dean knew this was another jab at their Team Free Will. Worry and fear settled in his stomach. He knew this was a trap. It had to be. But they were prepared.

                Dean looked at Sam, who looked back and lifted one corner of his mouth in a bad attempt at a reassuring smile. They were both nervous. Seeing Sam uneasy shouldn’t have been a relief to Dean, but it was. He thumped a hand on Sam’s shoulder and then looked to Cas. Cas was looking at the building, his brows scrunched up like he was trying to see passed the walls of the building. Dean rested a hand on Cas’s shoulder, too. Cas looked to Dean and his expression was one of worry and anticipation. Dean appreciated his honesty.

                They wasted no more time before Dean burst in through the front door. He had to kick the door down because it was locked; Blind Faith had closed for the night. The two angels that were sent to do Raphael’s dirty work whipped around to see Dean, Sam, and Cas. Partially drawn sigils were on the walls in front of them. Dean realized just how dangerous this case was if all that was needed was quick drawing skills. He and Sam pointed their guns at the angels. The guns wouldn’t hurt the angels, but it would sure slow them down if there were bullets in their hands.

                “Stop what you are doing,” Cas demanded, flanked by Sam and Dean.

                “Castiel,” one angel actually laughed. “Long time no see. How’s life?”

                “Stop drawing those sigils. This is not the way,” Cas continued. He stepped towards the angels and Dean and Sam moved with him.

                “These disgusting humans need to be destroyed. We will start anew with Raphael as our leader,” the other angel spat, glaring at Sam and Dean.

                “Raphael is a power hungry dick who wants to play God,” Castiel said, his voice low and menacing. Dean would have laughed at Cas’s language had this been any other situation. “He will not stop with the demons and the humans. He will continue to reign over Heaven and make it his own domain. Every angel will serve Raphael rather than our Father.”

                “Yeah? And what’s our other option… you?” The first angel laughed again. “What makes you better than Raphael?”

                Castiel bristled at this question. “I will not destroy Father’s creations. I will not make Heaven my province. I claim no supremacy over Heaven and the angels,” he replied in an even tone.

                Neither of the angels bought this. The one who laughed, laughed again and lunged at Cas. Dean shot at it, but it kept moving. Sam shot at the one who was trying to draw the sigil again. Sam ran and kicked the angel way from the wall. He stopped next to the almost complete sigil and reached to wipe it away but he angel he had kicked was back. Sam was tackled to the ground with the angel’s hand around his neck, choking him. He struggled beneath the angel, trying to buck him off and get some air.

                Dean shot at the angel attacking Cas again as Cas pushed the angel back. Lighting fast punches were thrown before Cas threw the angel he was fighting across the room, knocking the other angel off of Sam. Both angels jumped up and were ready to fight again but Cas had pulled out the angel killing sword from his coat and quickly slashed them both in a brawl that lasted no more than a minute. Cas walked back to Dean and Sam, looking sad and in pain.

                “You’ve been hurt, you’re bleeding,” Sam said to Cas and started to step forwards.

                Dean tore his eyes away from Cas’s face and saw that blood was seeping through Cas’s shirt. His stitches had been pulled. “Shit,” was all Dean was able to say before the lights in the store burst and sparked before going out.

                “Raphael is coming!” Cas exclaimed.

                Dean didn’t really know why, but a wave of intense fear washed over him. “Hide!” he cried out. He needed time to think this through. The light of the street light outside lit their way for a few moments before going out. Dean had seen two display cases behind him that rested against the wall. He grabbed Cas by the lapels of his coat and pushed him between the two cases and then stood in front of him. His back was to Cas’s chest and he listened carefully. 

 

The two angels lay dead in the middle of the floor. Sam was crouched behind the drum display and Cas and Dean were smashed together between two display cases of music memorabilia. Everything was still and quiet. The darkness was overwhelming and Dean kept blinking, hoping to focus his eyes better. Cas’s breath hit the back of Dean’s neck in hot bursts. Dean heard footsteps and pressed back further against Cas. Cas shifted to accommodate Dean and placed one hand over his own handprint on Dean’s shoulder and reached the other around to lay flat against Dean’s rib cage. The cuts of the sigil stung with the pressure, but Dean made no noise.

                _What are you doing?_ Dean asked Cas.

                _If I am touching the sigils on your ribcage that prevent you from being found by angels I can’t be found either_ , Cas replied. Dean winced at the itching feeling in his head.

                They had to remain quiet until Raphael approached them and they had a chance to attack. A heavy feeling completely unrelated to the fear of a huge fight settled in the bottom of his stomach. He knew the feeling all too well and he cursed himself for getting it now. His breath slowed and everything felt sort of fuzzy. He became very aware of how his body was almost completely pressed against Cas’s. He could feel Cas’s belt buckle pressing into his lower back and every breath Cas took pushed against Dean’s back. He closed his eyes and willed the feeling to go away. Now was so _not_ the time for a hard on. He had never had one over Cas before. But it _wasn’t_ over Cas. No way. It was because he hadn’t had sex in weeks. That’s it. Not about Cas at all. But the feeling only increased when Cas moved the hand that was on Dean’s shoulder to Dean’s stomach, holding him against Cas even more. Cas let out a tiny sigh and rested his forehead against the back of Dean’s neck.

                _Can you see him?_ Dean asked.

                _No. He is closest to Sam, I can feel him_ , Cas replied.

                _Can he see Sam? Can he see us_? Dean asked, panic rising now.

                _I don’t know_ , Cas said and shifted almost unperceptively but Dean felt every move he made. He shifted his hips, trying to turn them away from Dean. Dean felt the blood rush to his face as he blushed fiercely. He wasn’t dumb, his ass and thighs were pressed against the front of Cas’s pants, biology was biology and Cas was in a human body. He wanted to apologize to Cas for making him uncomfortable but couldn’t. Because he kind of wasn’t sorry.

                _What should we do_? Dean asked, deciding not to acknowledge what he felt on the back of this thigh.

                _Wait until he comes closer. I will tell you when to attack._ Cas replied.

                _Do you still have the sword?_ Dean asked, thankful that he wasn’t the one holding it because his palms were slick with sweat that he couldn’t blame on the heat. He gripped the Colt tightly to keep it from sliding out of his hands.

                _Of course, Dean._ Cas said with the tone of annoyance that only Dean could cause.

                _Don’t bitch face at me. I won’t stitch you back together, Humpty Dumpty_. Dean brain-sassed at Cas.

                _How could you possibly know what face I was making? And why did you call me Humpty Dumpty? What does that even mean?_ Cas asked.

                _Shut up and listen for Raphael_. Dean said. He wished all he had to worry about right now was coming up with a witty reply to Cas’s comments. He wished he could sit down and tell Cas the Humpty Dumpty nursery rhyme. He wished he wasn’t hiding from an archangel. He wished he wasn’t all pressed up against Cas in the dark where both of them had erections.

                _Sam, Dean, I am going to turn on the lights in about three seconds. Then we may attack._ Cas said. Dean’s heart sank just the tiniest bit into his toes when Cas addressed Sam, too. He had been kind of hoping that Cas only spoke to him in his head and not anyone else’s. _One. Two. Three._

                The lights came on (even though they had been blown) and the three of them jumped out of their hiding places, weapons raised. Raphael was in the same vessel as the last time they’d met. He was smiling.

                “Hello, boys,” Raphael said. “Funny to see the Winchesters in Winchester.”

                “Hilarious,” Dean deadpanned.

                “I chose it just for you,” Raphael continued in a calm voice. He didn’t seem fazed at all that there were three weapons pointed in his face, one of which was sure to kill him. “Do you like it?”

                “It’s wonderful. Now leave,” Dean said.

                “This store is called Blind Faith, did you notice?” Raphael asked, completely ignoring Dean’s demand. “I chose it because you seem to have such blind faith in Castiel. Why is that? He’s fighting me for control over Heaven just as much as I’m fighting him.”

                “Cas doesn’t want to kill every human being on Earth just to get rid of what he doesn’t like,” Dean said.

                Raphael chuckled. “I’m not killing off the humans for enjoyment. I’m eliminating them to start fresh. A clean slate is what this world needs.”

                “This world is just fine the way it is,” Dean said.

                “Really? You think so? With all the war, disease, destruction, and anger that controls it? Hm, you’re right, it is delightful. Maybe I simply have something against populations that tolerate cold popcorn and fetishes for sparkly vampires,” Raphael said and stepped closer to Dean. “Dean Winchester, I’m trying to bring Heaven to Earth and you’re trying to stop me. What does that make you?”

                “Part of Team Free Will,” Dean said and shot Raphael in the chest with the Colt. He knew it wasn’t going to do much besides annoy Raphael, but the son of a bitch pissed him off.

                Raphael looked down at the hole in his chest with barely a frown. “Team Free Will walks into a trap-” Raphael snapped his fingers and Cas disappeared. “And nobody walks back out.”

                Cas was gone and Dean began to panic. He kept his face neutral but inside his heart was racing and fear pumped through his veins. “Where is he?” Dean growled.

                “Not here,” Raphael said.

                “Did you kill him?” Sam asked, stepping forward so that he and Dean were shoulder to shoulder.

                “No, but I might as well have. I’m going to kill you two. And remember what I said about blind faith? It goes both ways,” Raphael said, looking directly at Dean.

                Dean couldn’t help but be relieved that Cas was alive, though now he was fearing for his own and Sam’s life.

                “Really guys, how did you not know this was a trap?” Raphael asked. “You’re getting sloppy.”

                “We figured it would be a trap but we came prepared for a fight,” Sam said.

                “With those toy guns? You do realize that the only weapon of yours that could have killed me disappeared with your precious Cas,” Raphael said.

                “Remember what I said about coming prepared?” Sam mocked Raphael.

                Sam and Dean both ripped open their button down shirts, exposing the angel banishing sigil on their chests. Raphael’s face changed from relaxed to insanely pissed off in less than a second. He lunged forward and reached for Dean but Sam shot at Raphael.

                Dean knew that all he needed to activate the sigil was his own blood on his hand to press against his chest. He was ready to take one hit before he was able to banish Raphael. After Sam shot Raphael, he turned to Sam and punched him in the mouth. Blood was drawn but Sam didn’t use the banishing spell. Dean didn’t understand. Sam continued to fight Raphael as Dean shot at the archangel. But the Colt didn’t work against archangels, as they were fast learning.

                There was the sound of wings and Dean spun around to see three angels behind him. He went in to complete warrior mode where he didn’t feel anything and all he saw were opportunities to kick, punch, fight. Pure instinct was driving him as he fought the three angels. His brain was about to block out the sound of Sam fighting Raphael in order to concentrate better on his own survival when one of the angels pulled out a knife. Dean saw the glint of the metal in the light and he turned to react to it when another angel grabbed his shoulders and held him still. The angel with the knife was stepping towards Dean, about two inches away when the angels all disappeared in a flash of light. Dean had been leaning back into the angel that had been holding him, so when the angel disappeared, Dean fell to the ground.

                He sat up, “Sammy?” he called out. He knew Sam had finally activated the banishing sigil and he wondered why it took him so long.

                “Right here, Dean,” Sam said breathlessly from behind Dean.

                Dean turned to see a bloodied Sam struggling to get to his feet. His lip and nose were bleeding and both eyes looked like they were swelling up. Dean imagined he didn’t look much better as he stood up. They both faced each other, panting, checking each other for broken bones.

                “We need to get out of here,” Sam said and they limped to the door.

                “We have to find Cas,” Dean said around a swollen lip.

                “Not right now. First thing is to get out of Winchester,” Sam said, pushing open the broken door.

                “He’s not going to know where to find us when he comes back,” Dean said.

                “He has a cell phone and knows how to use it… sort of,” Sam said.

                “What if Raphael has him?” Dean asked rhetorically. “What if he’s in some angel prison somewhere? They could be torturing him right now. Ripping his wings off or something.” Dean spat out blood from his cut lip onto the sidewalk.

                “I’m sure that’s not happening,” Sam said in a tone that did not make Dean feel any better. “If it makes you feel any better, we can leave the state and then start calling and praying to him.”

                Dean nodded and they hobbled to a gas station to use their rest rooms. There was no way they were going to be able to get bus tickets back to West Palm Beach where the Impala was with their faces all bloody. They stood around the sink washing their faces and putting ice from the drink machine into cheap, crappy paper towels and over their swollen faces. There were dark bruises all over their faces and no amount of dirty ice was going to help it. They looked like shit. So they pocketed their pride and Sam bought concealer makeup from the gas station. It matched neither of their skin tones, but it covered the bruises enough that they looked like they had skin conditions rather than contusions.

                “This is every shade of wrong,” Dean said, rubbing the make up onto Sam’s skin under his eyes.

                “Yeah, well, our faces are every shade of purple. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves or get denied bus tickets,” Sam said.

                “Sam Winchester wears make-up!” Dean exclaimed.

                “And Dean Winchester applied it! So shut the fuck up!” Sam defended before it was Dean’s turn to sit on the toilet seat while Sam was the make up artist.

                They left the gas station and walked to the nearest bus station outside of Winchester. It was a long haul and they got there at about midnight. Inside there were people sleeping on benches or drinking endless cups of coffee. Sam and Dean bought two tickets to West Palm Beach and ignored the weird looks they got for their mismatched and caked skin tones.

                The next bus to Florida was in the morning so they settled at a table, their duffle bags of weapons at their feet. Dean pulled out his cell phone and called Cas. There was no answer. So he called again. And again. And again. He began to get even more nervous and worried than the last time he couldn’t get ahold of Cas. This time, he had been taken by Raphael himself and who the fuck knows where he sent Cas. Dean was on edge and could think of nothing more than of what he imagined angel torture to be like.

                _Cas, where are you?_ No answer. _Please tell me you’re okay. I’m freaking out here. Sammy and I are waiting for a bus back to West Palm Beach. We’re going back for the Impala. Do you want us to stay there until you come back?_ There was no response.

                Dean tried over and over all night to call or pray to Cas. Sam tried many times, as well, but with less urgency and frequency. Sam eventually fell asleep laying across a line of chairs with his head on his duffle bag. Dean kept an eye out for any sign of angels that had followed them to the bus stop.

                No angels followed them and no angels called their cell phones either. Dean would have been grateful for an annoying game of phone tag with Cas at this point in time. Multiple cups of coffee and hours later, Dean was over caffeinated and agitated. Dean woke Sam up to catch their bus. The ride was sixteen hours straight but with the gas breaks and the other stops it took about twenty four hours. Dean only slept for about two hours of that time, much to Sam’s disapproval. The bus was loud, cramped, and smelled horrible. Dean fucking hated every damn second of it.

                Once they finally reached West Palm Beach and they got back to their hotel room, Dean was ready to collapse with exhaustion. He showered while Sam ordered food. When he came out he took two bites of the burger Sam had ordered for him and then collapsed onto his bed in his boxers. Sam went to bed not long after him and they both slept until six the next morning.

                The smell of maple syrup woke Dean up. He figured Sam had already been up and brought him breakfast like a good little brother. Until he heard rustling come from Sam’s bed and Sam say “Cas?”

                Dean shot up and out of bed like it was on fire or something. Sure enough, there, in the middle of the room, with two plates of steaming hot Belgian waffles, was Cas. He was smiling at Dean like he knew Dean was seriously freaking the fuck out.

                “Cas!” Dean exclaimed with a gasp suitable for soap operas. But he didn’t care. He had left his pride in his pocket after the make-up incident and those pants were still on the bathroom floor. He started towards Cas and took the plates out of his hands and set them down on the dresser. Cas looked confused though amused when Dean turned back towards him. Dean couldn’t help it. He hugged Cas fiercely against his chest, squeezing the air out of the angel. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s back and tried to chuckle but it came out as a wheeze.

                Sam was pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He grabbed his plate of waffles and said “Thanks for breakfast, Cas. Um, I’ll just leave you two alone, I guess.” He sounded weirded out and kind of angry before he left the room.

                As soon as the door shut, Dean pulled back from Cas. “I thought you were…”

                “I know what you thought, Dean. You’re very clingy,” Cas said.

                “Oh, ha ha,” Dean said humorlessly. “Seriously though, what happened?”

                “I was detained for awhile. You were correct on that account. But I was able to escape,” Cas said.

                “How?” Dean asked.

                Cas handed Dean the plate of Belgian waffles and they sat at the table. Dean realized just how hungry he was and started to eat. “I have angels on the inside of Raphael’s garrison,” Cas replied, watching Dean shovel in the waffles at an alarming speed.

                Dean shook his head and swallowed. “That’s amazing, Cas. You’re like the angel Houdini, or something.”

                “Houdini?” Cas asked, his head tilted.

                “A kick ass magician,” Dean replied and shoved in another forkful of waffles.

                “And who is Humpty Dumpty?” Cas asked.

                Dean laughed and told him the nursery rhyme. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably add that most of the places in this story actually exist. Winchester, Virginia actually does have a music store called Blind Faith near the center of town. Mentor really does have a library near the center of town. West Palm Beach really does have a Historical Society at the center of town and a cafe across the street. I take no claim over any of these places (though I did work at one of them...) and am making no money off their appearance in this story. Duh. :)

 

                Sam and Dean stood on Bobby’s front porch. Bags in hand and frowns on their faces. They had been sent like orphaned children to Bobby’s to wait for Castiel to return with more news. Cas had instructed them to stay low and stay safe while he was away. Dean was beginning to feel like a chick with an overprotective boyfriend. But Castiel was not his boyfriend. And Dean was not a chick. So this was just a messed up situation that had Dean wondering if he had to ask permission to talk to other people.

                Bobby had known that they were on their way, but he still rolled his eyes when he opened the door to see Sam and Dean standing at his doorstep. “Oh, it’s you two. Come in. Make yourselves at home, I guess.”

                “Thanks, Bobby,” Sam said. And Dean would have been lying if he said he didn’t wait for Sam to cross over the salt and devil’s traps before entering Bobby’s house.

                “So, why did Cas send you two here?” Bobby asked them.

                “He said it was near the middle of the states and he wanted us to be able to get pretty much anywhere in a few days if he couldn’t come get us,” Dean replied, setting down his bag.

                Bobby opened his mouth to say something and he had the look on his face that said he had a brilliant idea. Dean knew exactly what it was. They were near the center of the United States. _The center._ Raphael had been sending his angels to the center of every town and city he abolished. As soon as Cas had mentioned sending them to the center of the states to be able to travel quicker, he’d gotten this look on his face. It was a look of realization, elation, and hope. Dean had been on the receiving end of that look and it had made him realize what Cas had said as well. Cas had disappeared not long after that and left Dean to gather his things and Sammy and head to Bobby’s place.

                When Bobby looked to Dean with that look on his face, Dean shook his head. He wasn’t ready to tell Sam about that yet. There still wasn’t the assurance that Sam was all there on Team Free Will, so Dean was hesitant to tell him something so huge.

                Bobby quickly cleared his face of the look and nodded to Dean. Sam had been rummaging through his bag for his cell phone during the exchange. “The usual rooms, Bobby?” Sam asked, looking up now.

                “Yeah. They’re as good as yours,” Bobby shrugged. “Oh, but Sam, do you mind running up to the store to pick up some food for dinner? I never made it up there.”

                Sam made a face “Why me? Why not send Dean?”

                Dean laughed and slapped Sam on the shoulder. “You’re the youngest,” he reasoned.

                “I’m also the tallest,” Sam said defiantly. He crossed his arms and stood up straight.

                “And this is my house so your argument is useless,” Bobby sassed. “Go to the store, get us some dinner.”

                Sam Bitch-faced and left, grabbing the keys to the Impala from Dean.

                “Don’t forget dessert, Sammy!” Dean called after him.

                Sam gave Dean the finger before speeding off in the Impala.

                Dean turned back to Bobby.

                “Update me,” Bobby said with a gesture to follow him. They walked to his study and Bobby poured them both a glass of scotch.

                Dean leaned back in his chair and took a sip. “We came up against Raphael in Winchester.”

                “You told me,” Bobby said with a nod.

                “Cas had already been banished to wherever Raphael has his prison. Sam and I were ready to bail since we didn’t have the angel killing sword. Cas had it. And the Colt didn’t work so we were working with nothing. Sam and I had the angel banishing sigil on our chests and all we needed was some of our own blood on our hands to activate the sigil. Well, Sam bled first and he didn’t do a damned thing. He kept fighting Raphael even though there was nothing we could do without Cas. It took until I was just about to get ganked by some new angel minions before he activated the sigil,” Dean explained.

                “Maybe he was venting frustration?” Bobby suggested.

                “If he was still on the demon blood I would take that into consideration, but he hasn’t been sneaking around and we haven’t seen any demons around lately,” Dean said with a shake of his head. He finished his drink. “He has been calm. Real calm, this whole time.”

                “How so?” Bobby asked, pouring Dean another drink.

                “He doesn’t panic when we’re in a tight situation. I mean, when Cas was missing, he didn’t even care. He shrugged it off like it was nothing while I was freaking out enough for the two of us,” Dean said honestly.

                Bobby tucked his lips into his mouth like he was fighting the urge to say something. His eyes hinted at a smile. Dean ignored this.

                “And when we were in Winchester, me and Cas were sure that it was a trap. But we had to go in to stop the angels from painting the walls; there was no way around that. Sam had said that he didn’t think it was a trap. He seemed hell bent on it not being a trap,” Dean said.

                “Do you think that he wanted you to believe him and walk right into it anyways?” Bobby asked.

                “That’s what it felt like, Bobby,” Dean said, defeated.

                “Well, the only thing I can think to do is to keep an eye on the boy and keep him out of the loop on big matters. Like business with the center of the states and the weapon that hurt Cas,” Bobby said with a sigh.

                Dean nodded, looking down at his again empty glass. “Did you find anything about that weapon? I haven’t had much chance to look.”

                “Maybe. You’re not going to like it,” Bobby said derisively.

                Dean’s heart sank even further towards his toes. He closed his eyes. “What is it?” he asked. His voice was gruff and tired.

                “This is all speculation, of course, but I’ve found a few hints of a weapon that could do this. In fairy tales,” Bobby said, and watched closely for Dean’s reaction.

                He did not go unrewarded. Dean’s head snapped up to look at Bobby, his eyes wide and mouth open. He looked almost outraged that Bobby would mock this serious matter. He made a noise of discontent. Bobby was, however, not joking. “What?” Dean finally managed to sputter.

                “Yup. Fairy tales. Ancient ones, at that,” Bobby said before rummaging through the papers and books on his desk. He pulled out a crumbling volume with yellowed parchment. He pointed to an illustration of a mountain in the clouds. “Mount Olympus has caves of metals. These caves are terribly difficult to travel and according to the myths, thousands of strong men died trying to get to them and their treasures. First you had to bribe an ancient Greek god or goddess to bring you to the mountain, then you had to kill it, before you could even step foot in the caves. In this version of the story, an alchemist and a blacksmith traveled to Mount Olympus together and succeeded in finding the metals used to forge a weapon.”

                “So some douchey humans are responsible?” Dean asked, standing up and beginning to pace. _Humans_ were responsible for hurting his best friend? Suddenly Dean felt dirty. Like it was his fault that Cas got hurt.

                “Those humans were sent by Lucifer,” Bobby said. “Lucifer gave them the instructions for the weapon that could harm an angel’s grace.”

                “L- _Lucifer_?! That son of a bitch! What’s he doing in an ancient Greek fairy tale?” Dean was scandalized.  He stopped his pacing to stare incredulously at Bobby.

                Bobby looked just as confused. “I guess that’s why it’s not a well known fairy tale. Nobody in ancient Greece would have recognized this new character that was killing off their gods.”

                “Damn!” Dean swore. He ran his hand down his face.

                “Dean, this is just a fairy tale. It might not hold a lick of truth,” Bobby said honestly. He spread his hands out in front of him

                “It’s better than nothing. Thanks, Bobby. You’re the best,” Dean said.

                “You’re damn right,” Bobby said and covered the book with a newspaper, just in case.

<<{--}>>

                After Bobby made Sam and Dean dinner, and they ate amiably together, Dean retreated to Bobby’s study to read that fairy tale. Bobby and Sam played cards in the kitchen and talked about old hunts and scar stories. Dean would have absolutely loved to correct Sam’s telling of the werewolf of 1999 story _again_ , but he had other things to do. He had been itching to read the fairy tale Bobby told him about all evening. Thankfully, this particular fairy tale read more like a Greek myth rather than Cinderella. Dean was deep into his reading when Cas arrived. Bombs probably could have gone off around him and he wouldn’t have noticed (he _was_ related to Sam, after all).

                So, when Cas laid a warm hand on Dean’s t-shirt clad shoulder, Dean practically jumped out of his meat suit. “OH MY GOD!” Dean shouted.

                “Close enough,” Cas said with a smirk.

                “Don’t _do that_ ,” Dean scolded.

                “All I did was touch your shoulder,” Cas said simply and leaned against Bobby’s desk so that he was half sitting on it.

                “You alright, Dean?” Bobby’s voice called from the kitchen.

                “Yeah, I’m just reading a scary story about stalkers,” Dean called back.

                “Hi, Cas,” Sam chuckled from across the table from Bobby.

                Dean laughed. Cas only smiled and returned the greeting.

                “So, what has you in a good mood?” Dean asked Cas. His heart rate returning to just above normal after the scare.

                “Nothing I wish to share at this time,” Cas said and looked away from Dean.

                “Oh, we’re keeping secrets now?” Dean almost laughed. A secretive angel.

                “Not a secret, Dean,” Cas said and his voice did all the eye rolling for him. “I am just not prepared to tell you yet.”

                “Hm, right. Secrets,” Dean teased.

                Cas side-eyed him and Dean shut up about it.

                “So, Bobby was doing some research on that weapon,” Dean said in a quieter tone.

                Cas straightened up and looked curiously at Dean.

                “He found something interesting in an ancient Greek fairy tale,” Dean said, pointing down to where the crumbling book rested on his lap.

                “Ancient Greek?” Castiel asked speculatively.

                “Yeah, it’s about metals in the caves on Mount Olympus,” Dean said and watched as Castiel’s face grew almost horrified.

                “That’s not an ancient Greek fairy tale, Dean,” Cas gasped. “That’s an angelic horror story!”

                Dean looked down at the text. He could definitely see how it was a horror story to angels. Lucifer sends humans to Heaven to forge a weapon that can hurt an angel’s grace, so yeah. Terrifying.

                Cas moved to behind Dean to look at the text. His face was so close to Dean’s that if Dean turned his head, his nose would touch Cas’s cheek. Cas was peering narrowly at the book on Dean’s lap. His hands gripped the back and armrest of Dean’s chair. Then he reached over to turn the page and the backs of his fingers brushed Dean’s thigh. Dean took a deep, steadying breath.

                He was confused. Why was he so turned on by Cas touching him? It had never happened before the music store in Winchester. Now it was happening again. Dean didn’t like it. Dean wasn’t attracted to men. He was attracted to chicks. Dean was as straight as straight could be. So what the _fuck_ was this?! Cas was a guy. A guy _angel_. Dean was pretty sure that being sexually attracted to an angel would mean bad things. Sure, there was Anna, but she was human at the time so it really didn’t count. Cas was a full blown angel vying for control over fucking _Heaven_ , for fuck’s sake.

                Dean continued breathing as steadily as he could. He looked at anything and everything in Bobby’s study that wasn’t Cas. He couldn’t focus. He was angry and horny and confused. Maybe it was one of those times where the thoughts and feelings he wanted least came to the surface just because he didn’t want them. Maybe he was just in dire need of a one night stand with some chick from a bar. Maybe he should step into the bathroom for a few minutes….

                “Would it be beneficial if I moved?” Cas asked, breaking Dean out of his silent agony.

                “What?” Dean asked, not quite sure of anything at that moment.

                Cas turned to look at Dean but Dean was turning towards Cas at the same time so their noses bumped and Dean jumped back so hard in his seat that the chair toppled over. He scrambled up from the floor and righted the chair. He looked at Cas and repeated “What?!” with a burst of air. Dean looked panicked and anxiety ridden as he stood behind the chair. The chair not only put distance between him and Cas but also hid his hard on.

                Cas looked baffled, confused, intrigued, and a little bit amused. He tilted his head at Dean and Dean had to look away. “I am unfamiliar with this situation,” Cas sort of explained.

                “The- the book?” Dean asked. “I can ask Bobby if you can borrow it.”

                “No, your arousal towards me,” Cas said in the most calm voice ever. Or at best it was just way too calm for that kind of a line and while Dean was literally losing his mind across the room.

                “P-pardon?” Dean stuttered with a crazy look on his face. How the _goddamn fuck_ did Cas know?

                Cas gestured towards Dean’s body. “Your sexual arousal. It’s because of me. Should I stay away from you?” There was pride in his voice. It wasn’t fair. He might as well have been standing there pointing at Dean yelling in a sing-song voice “Yoouu liiike me! Yoouu liiike me!” for all the good that it was doing Dean’s mind.

                “Are you-” Dean stopped to gasp in realization. “Are you _reading my mind_?!” His eyes were as wide as they could get and his mouth hung agape. He stepped back unconsciously.

                Cas looked bashful. “I couldn’t help it. Sometimes your thoughts and emotions are so strong that I can’t filter them out.”

                “What? _What_?! That’s not fair! For fuck’s sake, Cas! Minds are _private_ places! That’s why ‘mind’ sounds so close to ‘ _mine_!’” Dean shouted at Cas. So maybe that last part wasn’t so true, but Dean felt it should have been. “It’s wrong, Cas!”

                “I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Cas said much quieter than Dean.

                “No, you just meant to invade my privacy,” Dean snapped.

                “Dean, we share a profound bond. Our souls are connected. If this is how your human, Dean soul expresses that then there is no shame,” Castiel said. He sounded offended and pissed off. He disappeared.

                What did he mean how his “Dean soul” expressed a profound bond? So what Dean was feeling was all because of a bond? But what was this profound bond? It was not like Dean and Cas had stayed up late braiding each others’ hair and telling secrets. Was it because Cas pulled Dean out of Hell?

                Whatever _caused_ the feelings didn’t worry Dean. All he cared was that suddenly he was having gay feelings towards Cas. What the actual fuck? It wasn’t right. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t… Dean. What would everyone think? What would Sam think? Bobby? _Lisa_? Oh, God, at least he wouldn’t have to face his dad. Dean felt a squeeze in his stomach. His dad. Dean bent over and placed his palms flat on Bobby’s desk.

                No. This was going away. He was not going to acknowledge any of it. If he ignored it, it would go away. Being gay was a choice, right? God, Dean didn’t know; he’d never been in this situation before. He shook his head.

                Now he was hungry. Being angry always made him want to eat; it was the weirdest thing. Dean stalked towards the kitchen where Sam and Bobby were still playing cards and talking. Dean stomped to the fridge and ripped it open, making bottles rattle. The only thing readily available to eat was an apple. Dean scrunched up his nose but grabbed it anyways. Yeah, he was _that_ hungry. He took a huge bite out of the green apple. He chewed through the little bits of core that he managed to bite off. Juice dibbled down his chin and he furiously swiped it away.

                Sam and Bobby had stopped their game and were staring at Dean.

                “Wha?” Dean asked through a huge mouthful of apple. His eyebrows were raised and his tone was seriously bitchy.

                “What did your boyfriend want?” Bobby asked.

                Dean quickly swallowed the apple and there was a long intake of breath before: “HE IS NOT MY BOYFRIEND!! WHAT THE HELL, BOBBY?!”

                Bobby chuckled. “With the knot he has your panties tied in, I’d say so.”

                “What are you saying, Bobby? That I’m gay?” Dean asked in a venomously low and quiet voice.

                Bobby shrugged. “Maybe you’re just gay for Cas.” When Dean huffed in anger, Bobby continued. “All I’m saying is that you got awful worked up just now for there to be no truth behind it. Dean, you’re more relaxed when he’s around and you’re as edgy as Rufus when he’s not. I’m not saying I support this or anything, don’t get me wrong; I think it’s rather disturbing. But it’s your life Dean.”

                Bobby had been so calm and casual about this that Dean was having a hard time staying angry at him. Dean looked to Sam. Sam had a look of disturbed disgust plastered across his face.

                “Wait, so you think Dean actually has feelings for Cas?” Sam asked. The derision was clear in his tone.

                Dean’s heart sank at Sam’s tone. He didn’t even know why it was upsetting him. It shouldn’t have. He didn’t have feelings for Cas. It didn’t matter.

                “You’re with them more than I am,” Bobby said. “It’s a hunter’s senses to pick up on these things. Haven’t you noticed how Dean’s more relaxed when Cas is around?”

                “When he saw that Cas was alive after Winchester, he gasped like a little girl at a Backstreet Boys concert,” Sam laughed scornfully.

                “I did not!” Dean defended. The juice from his apple was dripping down over his wrist.

                “And then he ran over and hugged Cas.” Now Sam and Bobby were laughing. Bobby simply found it humorous, but Sam was mocking Dean. “It was the longest hug I’ve ever seen. I had to leave the room.”

                “Without him, we have no way to save the fucking world, okay?” Dean snapped. “Of course I was happy to see him. Dammit, Sammy! Gain some perspective!”

                Dean grabbed a beer in the hand that wasn’t holding the browning apple and stormed outside. It was dark out; the only light came from the moon and the porch light Bobby flipped on after Dean left. Dean stumbled around in the dark in Singer Salvage yard, cursing as he accidentally kicked car parts and then actually kicking at those parts. The air was a light summer breeze but Dean was sweating. He was still angry. At himself and at Sam and Bobby. Not at Cas, though. Dean really wanted to be angry at Cas. Because if he was angry at Cas he wouldn’t be angry at himself.

                But Cas really hadn’t done anything wrong. Sure he read Dean’s mind again, but he didn’t do it to be mean or to pry. Cas had said that he couldn’t help it. He had even apologized and Dean had still blown up in his face. Dean felt bad for that.

                Dean finally settled on sitting on the hood of some old car Bobby had been salvaging parts from. Dean tried to distinguish the make and model but he couldn’t; it was too mangled. The hood was in relatively good shape and the windshield was in place. So Dean hopped up on top of the hood and leaned back against the glass. He looked up at the sky and popped open his beer.

                A few minutes of (very manly) star gazing later, Dean had calmed down. Now that he was away from Bobby and Sam, he allowed himself to think. It was just him, a few tons of discarded metal, and the stars. Nobody was going to accuse him of being gay or wrong. Hypothetically speaking, if he were to have feelings for Cas, what would they be for? His feelings weren’t for Jimmy’s body. While Jimmy was in no way an _un_ attractive man, Dean didn’t see men that way. Though, his eyes were this crazy shade of blue that Dean would always associate with Castiel. Dean remembered when it was all Jimmy in his meat suit. Everything seemed wrong to Dean. Jimmy’s voice, posture, vocabulary, and especially his eyes were all wrong. Dean was not attracted to Jimmy; he was attracted to Castiel in his vessel.

                Cas had pulled Dean out of Hell. Literally and figuratively. Cas had literally fought his way into the bowels of Hell to rescue Dean from fiery damnation. Sure, he’d had an agenda, but it was still _Cas_. Dean could honestly say that he would not be on Earth if it wasn’t for Cas. Figuratively speaking, Cas had been the one to shake him out of self pity on numerous occasions. Cas had been the one to remind Dean that he had a job to do every damn time. In the years that he’d known Cas, the angel had been nothing but loyal. Cas had stood by Dean’s side. Cas had _fallen from fucking Heaven_ for Dean. There was nobody, not even Sam, who was that devoted to Dean. Cas had sacrificed everything for Dean, time and time again. Cas had even _died_ for Dean. He knew what Dean did in Hell and even all of the stupid crap he did on Earth too, and he still stayed. He put up with a colossal amount of bullshit from Dean, as well.

                Dean realized that Castiel was his best friend. He had been for awhile now, Dean wasn’t sure how long though. There was nobody he trusted and respected more than Cas. Even when they were fighting and bitching. Hell, he did that with everyone he liked. Fighting and bitching were like the Winchester versions of hugs and kisses. There wasn’t a day together that Sam and Dean didn’t argue about something. And it seemed the same way with Cas.

                So, trust and respect. But was there more? Or was this just a little case of a bromance? Dean thought hard about it. What were the signs that meant he was attracted to someone? He’d never read a page out of fucking _Cosmo_ , but he imagined that’s what was in that shit. God, he really was gay, wasn’t he? Here he was, stargazing, thinking about angels, and wishing for a goddamn _Cosmo_. He frowned. When he was attracted to a girl he… saw boobs. Step one. Okay. Cas didn’t have boobs. Step two was pretty face. Cas had a pretty face. This wasn’t going anywhere. What were the physiological signs of being attracted to someone? For a second he thought about texting Sam. Sam would know. Instead, he kept to himself. Rapid pulse? Was that a sign? Well, mark it down for yes. His pulse always quickened when Cas arrived. But that could have been because he was anticipating a new case. Shit. Okay. Eyes dilate when a person is sexually aroused. He couldn’t see his own eyes. Butterflies in his belly? Oh, no. Now he was a twelve year old girl. This _really_ wasn’t going anywhere.  Shit.

                Dean figured he was going to have to go off of a new experiment. He was going to call Cas, get him over there, and pay attention to his body’s reactions. He gulped down the last of his beer and pulled out his phone. The light when he opened it was almost blinding and he blearily pressed Cas’s speed dial button.

                It rang three times. “If you’re calling to yell at me some more, might I suggest a voicemail I may delete later?” Cas answered the phone.

                “Come to Bobby’s, smart ass. I’m out in the salvage yard,” Dean said and hung up. He fought the urge to smile at Cas’s sass. The angel had balls. Metaphorically speaking. Though, Dean figured, he probably had- _thought terminated_.

                Dean put his pride in its second home of Dean’s back pocket and closed his eyes. He wanted to know his natural reaction to Cas’s presence. This was for real. This was it. He was going to determine how he felt for Cas at that moment. Cas had better not ruin it.

                He heard footsteps start just a few feet away and his first instinct was to open his eyes and be on alert. He kept them closed though, because he felt comforted by Cas. A wave of calm contentment washed over him and Dean wondered if Cas mojoed him. There was the sound of the hood popping slightly under Cas’s weight as he slid onto the hood next to Dean. Then there was the sound of Cas’s trench coat _swish_ ing about as he got comfortable and finally a sigh as he leaned back against the glass with Dean. Dean’s heart rate was calm, but his stomach was going insane. _Goddamn fucking butterflies can go to Hell_. Shit.

                Dean opened his eyes and looked to Cas. Cas was sitting next to him, with his legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles like Dean’s, and looking out towards the sky. Dean looked back up at the sky and waited a few moments.

                “Cas?” he asked.

                “Yes, Dean?” Cas replied.

                “What did you mean when you said our souls are connected?” Dean asked. His voice was quiet, like he was afraid of what he was saying. And he kind of was. He just wasn’t sure if it was the good scared or the bad scared yet. 

                “Every human on Earth is born with an angel who shares a matching piece of their soul. There is an angel for every human on Earth,” Cas said.

                “Like a guardian angel?” Dean asked warily.

                Castiel actually laughed. “No, Dean. Not a guardian angel. Those are just bedtime stories.”

                “Then what?” Dean asked.

                “There are no such things as guardian angels. Each human has an angel for divine intervention, not protection from harm. The angels who are soldiers, like myself, have the ability to call their humans to attention for battle. If God was still here, I imagine He would have had every soldier call their good hearted humans to attention to fight Lucifer when he walked the Earth. It would have made our jobs much easier. But only God can start it. I know, because I tried,” Cas explained.

                “Our souls match?” Dean asked Cas, looking at him now.

                “Not entirely. We have a matching piece. We’re not born soul mates, but that doesn’t make our bond any weaker,” Cas corrected. “If God were to call everyone to battle, we would fight side by side.”

                “We already do,” Dean pointed out.

                “That is no coincidence,” Cas said.

                Dean felt somewhat betrayed by that. Cas didn’t stand by Dean because he wanted to; he did it because it was his duty. Dean looked down.

                “No, Dean,” Cas said. “I wanted to fight with you. I want to. It wasn’t just my duty. I fell for you and had no duties and still stayed.”

                “You’re reading my mind again,” Dean said in slightly scolding manner.

                “I was not. Your face reads like a picture book,” Cas said, a smile in his voice.

                There was silence between them for a few moments. “I was the one to pull you from Hell because of our matching souls. Other angels had tried and perished. Many angels, in fact. That’s why it took so long for me to bring you back. My superiors had to search out the angel with the matching soul.”

                “I was kind of wondering why it took you so long. But I wasn’t going to say anything and make myself look ungrateful,” Dean said with a chuckle.

                “You forget that I know your soul and can never see you as someone you’re not,” Cas said.

                “Yeah, I know. Which is the only way you can tolerate me, I get it,” Dean said, still chuckling.

                “I know you are having trouble with your emotions towards me,” Cas said.

                Dean looked away, his stomach clenching like gravity had shifted.

                “Angels have never communicated with their human before. Your reactions may be normal, there is no way to tell,” Cas said.

                “Does it bother you?” Dean asked. His voice was hoarse.

                “No,” Cas replied.

                “Does it have anything to do with the bond?” Dean asked.

                “Perhaps. But probably not,” Cas answered. “You did not feel this way when we first met. This is a recent development.” Dean didn’t question it because Cas knew everything.

                “How do you feel about me, Cas?” Dean asked. His voice sounded so sure of himself but Dean felt disconnected and a little bit dizzy. He was partially curious as to how the bond worked on angels, and partially romantically interested.

                Cas laughed. His head tilted back and moonlight caught his teeth and eyes. His laughter made Dean feel uncomfortable. He hated being laughed at. Especially when it was people close to him that were laughing. Like Sam. Dean looked away again. He started to think up excuses to leave Cas and go back inside. Then.

                Then Cas was grabbing Dean’s hand. At first Dean was confused as to what Cas was doing. He realized that Cas was trying to hold his hand and smiled. Dean threaded their fingers together and looked to Cas. Cas was smiling up at the stars, so Dean turned and did the same. He was holding hands with Cas, his best friend, his angel, his partial soul mate. Maybe this whole scene was gay. Maybe he was gay. But so was Cas. He wasn’t alone. They were both scared and confused by their own thoughts and emotions, but they were scared together. Screw Sam and Bobby laughing at him. Screw anybody who didn’t like it. Screw his own trepidation over the whole damn thing. Because for those few moments under the stars with Cas, he didn’t have a care in the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all soooo much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this story. Don't be shy! :)  
> Also, don't worry, this isn't the end. There's more.


	7. Chapter 7

**  
**

                Dean’s eyes were still closed from sleep. But he heard the distant rumble of voices in Bobby’s house. He shifted on the lumpy mattress and cracked open an eye. The sun wasn’t even fully up yet but he heard Bobby’s voice drifting up the stairs. Another voice was present as well and Dean had to strain to hear if it was Sam or Cas. All he heard was a low rumble. Probably Cas.

                _Cas._

                Dean’s stomach did not flip over. No. It simply stretched like the rest of his muscles. Yup. Just stretching.

                A small grin was on his lips but he didn’t bother fighting it down. There was no one to see it. Last night Dean and Cas stayed out in Singer Salvage Yard for hours. Sometimes they spoke, but mostly they were silent. Cas continued to hold Dean’s hand until Dean was drifting off under the stars. The summer air had been cool and soothing and the warm hand in his own grounded him. Cas had squeezed his hand to get his attention. “It would be wise for you to go indoors now, Dean. It is going to rain,” Cas had said. Dean didn’t believe him because the starry sky was clear of any rain clouds. But, he could take a hint, so he had rolled himself off the hood of the car they’d been sitting on and trudged his way back into Bobby’s house. He hadn’t spoken to Bobby or Sam the rest of the night. He was on a high from the evening and didn’t want to take the chance of it being ruined by Grumpy and Grumpier.

                Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled on the pair of jeans that were still on the floor, open to where his feet had come out of the bottoms. Sam used to laugh at how he kept his pants on the floor like that. He would say that it looked like Dean had gotten sucked into space, leaving his clothes behind. That was until there was a time when they had had to jump out of bed and get dressed quickly and Dean was out in the Impala before Sam had even located his jeans. After that, Sam left him and his strange pants habit alone. Now, his pants were cool against his sleep warm skin as he shuffled barefooted into the bathroom. After pissing for an obscenely long time, he splashed water over his face. As he was drying his face he noticed the red lines pressed into his skin from his pillow case. It was his deepest, darkest secret that he loved those sleep lines. He loved them on everybody. When Sam would wake up with them, Dean would be transported back to when they were kids sharing a bed and he was woken up by a hungry and ever growing Sammy. When girls he slept with woke up with them (if Dean happened to spend the whole night), he would immediately see them as cute rather than sexy as he had the night before. He wondered what Cas would look like with those pillow case imprints. _Stop._

                He went downstairs to find some coffee. While he loved both Bobby and Cas, he most definitely needed some caffeine in his veins before dealing with them, especially together. He heard them talking back and forth as he went into the kitchen and dumped out the full pot of the “coffee” Bobby had made. Dean knew better than to drink that shit unless he wanted a colon cleanse. One sip was like a punch in the face and one cup sent any drinker besides Bobby running to the bathroom. Dean filled the water and put in a fresh filter and grounds. He pressed the On button and looked in the fridge for any breakfast. There wasn’t anything that didn’t have to be cooked so Dean opted for some raspberry Pop-Tarts from the cupboard. He ate them while he waited for the coffee to finish. He poured himself a steaming cup of coffee and stood just outside Bobby’s study.

                Okay. He was snooping. But he didn’t want to walk in there and interrupt their conversation. He wanted to hear what they were saying to be sure they weren’t keeping anything from him. Besides, the caffeine hadn’t soaked in yet. He leaned against the wall near the doorway.

                “The inflection in that last paragraph suggests that the weapon is metaphorical,” Bobby said.

                “Intonation and inflection are hard to translate, Bobby,” Cas said. “I am fluent in every language and I read it to say that the weapon is real.”

                “I’ve been reading ancient texts long enough that I know when what I’m reading is metaphorical. There is nothing in here to suggest that the weapon is a solid object. Castiel, look at this wording in the last paragraph. It clearly states that the power of ideas is enough to bring Heaven crashing down,” Bobby said in that same tone he gets with Dean when he misbehaves.

                “The weapon began as an idea,” Cas said agitatedly.

                “Was the raven real or imaginary? Damn it, Cas! We’re going to be here until the next apocalypse if we continue debating literature,” Bobby said.

                Dean was pretty sure that Bobby and Cas had always worn thick glasses and pocket protectors and laughed like Urkle.

                “It is not literature. It is gospel,” Cas corrected unflinchingly. “And there is no raven in this gospel, I don’t understand that reference.”

                There was a heavy sigh. “At any rate, how determined should we be to search out and find this imaginary weapon?” Bobby asked.

                “Very. We must find it and destroy it,” Cas said.

                “Why not find it and use it?” Bobby asked.

                “No. I will not use this weapon on my brother,” Cas said sternly.

                “It would practically guarantee us the win,” Bobby argued.

                “I will not win this war with a weapon forged for Lucifer,” Cas said in the same stern tone.

                “So we have to find and destroy the imaginary weapon that would help us win the war in Heaven because of your prissy morals,” Bobby recapped.

                “We would not be winning if we used this weapon,” Cas snapped. “And, for the last time, the weapon is as real as you or I. Ask Dean; he has seen the damage the weapon can inflict,” Cas said, his voice straining against annoyance.

                “Then I will find it. Or send the boys out to find it so that _we_ could use it against Raphael. This is not _your_ entire race that is being wiped off the planet, angel,” Bobby snarled.

                “You. Will. Not. Touch. The. Dagger,” Cas said and Dean knew he was getting all up in Bobby’s personal space. “No human can wield the weapon. I will not allow Dean to touch that weapon. It would burn his skin off instantly. I can not have him be killed by the dagger meant to injure an angel. You and Samuel may not touch it either.”

                “Way to favor Dean,” Bobby said casually. Castiel didn’t intimidate him anymore. Cas getting in his face was practically nothing. Like a fly buzzing. Bobby had lost everything so now anything he had was just borrowed. His life was like a library card. It being taken away would be no loss and no gain to him.

                There was no response from Cas but Dean heard shuffling papers.

                “What’s going on between you two?” Bobby asked. Something in his voice said he already knew. Dean knew that Bobby basically already did know, but he wanted to see how Cas responded.

                “I do not understand what you mean,” Cas said. But Dean knew him well enough to hear the tell in his voice that said he was lying. Cas’s words came out in spurts rather than the steady rhythm of truth. Dean grinned.

                “You and Dean have this _thing_ going on,” Bobby explained awkwardly. “You always look at each other when you’re near each other. You communicate without even speaking so much it seems like you’re telepathically linked-”

                “We are,” Cas interrupted. “But that is because I am telepathically linked with everyone. When you pray to me, I hear it. I am able to pray back, but it causes humans some displeasure.”

                “What?” Bobby asked.

                There was a few moments of silence before: “THAT ITCHES MY BRAIN!” shouted by Bobby.

                Dean stifled laughter with his hand against his mouth.

                “As you see, I am able to communicate with you tele-orally. Dean and I often speak this way in order to convey messages that we would like to keep away from Samuel. It does not mean we are romantic,” Cas said.

                “But are you?” Bobby asked.

                “I still do not understand why you are questioning this,” Cas said. He was lying again. And getting nervous. His words were rushed and defiant.

                Dean wanted to rush in there and stop the conversation now. But he also wanted to hear what Cas was going to say. He was torn so he shifted his feet, ready to jump in.

                “I just want to know if I should knock before I enter any room you happen to be in with Dean,” Bobby said.

                Dean really wanted to jump in there now. Though, he was so baffled over the fact that he and Castiel held hands under the stars like middle school kids on their first date. He needed to know _what it all even meant_. He was waiting outside the door like a twelve year old girl by the phone. His hands were tight around his coffee mug. He needed to relax. This was totally uncool.

                _Dean, I know you are there in the kitchen listening. What should I say to Bobby?_

                Dean’s dignity calmly detached itself, grabbed its suitcase and put on its hat, and walked right out Bobby’s back door without even a word or a glance back. Dean hung his head. _Answer however you feel fit, Cas._

                "Dean and I share a profound bond. We share components of our souls that tie us together in case of a battle begun by God. When I dragged him from the Pit, I inadvertedly activated our bond. Now that we have spent time together, Dean is unsure of how the bond makes him feel. It is manifesting itself in sexual urges towards me. We are… working through it,” Cas replied, his voice the steady rhythm of truth.

                Dean’s head slipped and knocked against the wall with a _thud_. Oh. That wasn’t exactly what he was expecting Cas to say. Well.

                “Thanks for being so… honest,” Bobby said. His voice was gruff and confused. “I don’t understand how this happened, or _why_.”

                “I just told you,” Cas said.

                “I meant, why Dean suddenly feels sexually attracted to you. He has never been with a man before, has he?” Bobby said.

                “No, he has not. He is struggling with this, Bobby. Your patience would be most appreciated,” Cas said calmly.

                “There’s not much I can give to this one, Cas,” Bobby said with a sigh.

                Dean’s heart met his toes for an extended vacation. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care. He didn’t care.

                “I won’t say anything bad about you two. I will be nothing but supportive. But know that I don’t necessarily like that one of my boys is screwing an _angel_ ,” Bobby said.

                Dean wanted to laugh. Bobby wasn’t unsupportive of him and Cas both being owners of penises, he was unsupportive of one of them owning wings. Of all the things for Bobby not to be supportive of, this one took the cake. Bobby probably didn’t give any fucks that this meant Dean was sort of gay. Sam had _demon blood_ in him; a little bit of queer in Dean was no big deal. As long as he wasn’t too busy polishing his rhinestones to kick ass. And come on, really? (Rhinestones are tacky.)

                Dean was a little bit upset that Bobby wasn’t one hundred percent behind him on this. But everyone was entitled to their own opinion no matter how wrong it was. So Dean decided to keep his mouth shut and be happy that Bobby wasn’t kicking them out for being blasphemous.

                “Good morning!” Dean said happily as he entered the study at last. Both Cas and Bobby turned to look at him has he entered. Cas looked relieved and Bobby looked wary.

                _He said he was supportive but his soul is sad. We should be respectful._ Cas said to Dean.

                _Oh, good thing you mentioned it because I was about to pull my dick out of my pants and ask you to suck it._ Dean replied sarcastically.

                _Now would not be an opportune time._ Cas shot right back and Dean almost tripped over his own feet. He glanced up to see Cas looking at him with warm eyes. He was joking.

                Dean stood on the opposite side of the room from Castiel. He made it look natural by setting his coffee mug down on the end table. He wasn’t going to look at Cas more than necessary, or go out of his way to stand next to him. Dean was respecting Bobby’s silent wishes. He understood. There were things in life that one didn’t want to see in front of one’s face. Dean completely got that so he cooled his jets.

                “Now that Dean’s awake,” Bobby said, his tone lighter. “What were you doing yesterday? Dean said that you mentioned the center of the states and then disappeared.”

                Cas looked down and away from Bobby and Dean. “I am not prepared to share my plans as of now.”

                “Bull shit,” Dean said and crossed his arms.

                “What, do you not trust us?” Bobby challenged.

                “I trust the both of you, I am simply unsure about my plans. They are very fragile and they can not be challenged,” Cas replied.

                “What a lame excuse!” Dean exclaimed. Dean didn’t like secrets.

                “We’re the good guys, Cas,” Bobby said, obviously just as perturbed as Dean.

                Cas rolled his eyes. A human gesture he had mastered quite early. “I know that. As I said, my plans are still young and fragile. I will come to you both when they are complete.”

                _Come on, Cas. You can tell me_. Dean prayed to Cas.

                _No._

                _It’s just you and me here. What is your plan?_

 _It is not of import as of now._

“This is not right,” Dean said out loud. “If you trusted us, you would tell us.”

                Cas looked out the window and put his hands in his pockets. He was worried. Bobby’s posture did not relax but Dean’s did when he saw Cas’s tell for worry. Cas was telling the truth and didn’t feel safe enough to reveal his plans to Dean and Bobby. Maybe they were big plans that ended up with casualties and he didn’t want Dean to know yet. Maybe they were stupid plans that wouldn’t help their case at all. Dean couldn’t tell.

                “Maybe we should leave him alone,” Dean said suddenly. The tension disappeared from Cas’s shoulders with Dean’s words.

                “What?” Bobby asked.

                “If he doesn’t want to tell us, he doesn’t want to tell us,” Dean said with a forced shrug.

                “Whatever. He’s your boyfriend,” Bobby mumbled.

                Dean scoffed. “Right, Bobby,” he said sarcastically. “I’ll be outside if you guys need me.”

                Dean hopped down the front steps of Bobby’s house and kicked his way around the salvage yard. He often did this when he was at Bobby’s. Sometimes he would help him fix up some cars, sometimes he gave the Impala a tune up, and sometimes he just walked around kicking things. Today was a kicking things day. His high from the night before was almost completely gone.

                “Dean,” came Cas’s voice from somewhere behind Dean.

                Dean whirled around, sweating under the hot summer sun. “Yeah, Cas?”

                “Las Vegas,” Cas said. “Raphael is going to Las Vegas. Sin City.”

                “We’re not ready,” Dean said with a defeated exhale.

                “I know,” Cas replied. “I will try to evacuate the city.”

                “Do it. Get everyone out of there,” Dean said. “Don’t tell Sam though. I want to see if he mentions Vegas first.”

                “Yes,” Cas agreed. “I will return soon.”

                Dean nodded. Cas disappeared.

                It was a very cold and stoic exchange. As soon as Cas was gone Dean let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and his stomach unclenched. He was a little girl with pig tails hiding from the guy she was crushing on in the playground. It was all very pathetic.

                Dean turned back to where he’d been walking before Cas appeared. He kicked harshly at a rusted muffler that skidded across the gravel into the frame of an old Mustang. Dirt rose from between the rocks in the path behind the rusted muffler.

                The sound of wings made Dean turn around. Cas was back already? That was fast. Cas was inches away from him. An unreadable expression was in his eyes. Dean opened his mouth to ask what was going on but he was silenced. Cas’s mouth pressed against his for a second before he disappeared again.

                Dean’s eyes were wide and shocked, his mouth was still open from his abandoned words. What just happened?! Dean had just been kissed by an angel. It was a chaste, quick kiss. But it was a _mother fucking kiss._ Dean thought “What the hell?!” even though his heart was racing and more sweat broke out on his skin. And just like that he was hard again. He looked around warily to see if Sam or Bobby had seen Cas kiss him. He was alone.

                He pulled at the fabric of his jeans. Damn it. What was that? Cas seriously just kissed him. What did it mean? Did it mean that Cas wanted a romantic relationship with Dean? Dean began to over analyze it. He had never kissed a guy before; what else was he supposed to do besides over analyze?

                He walked a little further before he realized his hard on was going no where anytime soon. Somewhat grudgingly, he slid to the ground against an old van, hiding in its shade. He looked around one more time before popping open the button on his jeans. He reached into his pants and down the front of his boxer briefs to wrap a hand around himself. He let out a little sigh at the relief of it. Then he spit on other palm and switched hands and began to stroke himself. His eyes rolled back at the pleasure and relief. It didn’t take much to get him dripping with sweat and his chest heaving. Castiel had managed to really wind him up with one simple kiss. He didn’t know how he would ever even be able to handle sex with Cas without completely losing it. _Woah_. Sex with Cas.

How had it even gotten to that? Yesterday he was having a big gay freak out and today he was thinking about deflowering a male angel. He was just sexually frustrated. That was all. It had been a little while since he’d gotten laid.

He rested his head back against the old van and wiped sweat away from his eyes with his free left hand. He looked to where he’d been standing when Cas kissed him and remembering the feel of Cas’s lips pressed with much force against his own sent him over the edge. He twisted his hips at the last second and came with a shudder into the dusty gravel. He gave a low groan as he gave himself two last, slow strokes before zipping his pants back up. He caught his breath and stood up on slightly shaky knees.

The sun was high and hot and he needed a drink and a big sandwich. He headed back to Bobby’s house to hog the fan and watch some tv until Cas got back.

Dean was just chomping into a huge ham sandwich when Sam came into the kitchen. “So, I’ve been thinking. Wouldn’t it be wise to look for Raphael in the biggest city of sin? You know, Las Vegas?” Sam said casually.

The food went sour in Dean’s mouth and he choked it down. “What?” Dean asked hoarsely and took a swig of beer.

“Well, its called Sin City and Raphael’s trying to eliminate the sin of the world,” Sam said with a shrug.

“What… what made you think of that?” Dean managed to say just over a whisper.

Sam knew. Sam knew and wanted to get Dean to Las Vegas where Raphael was going to show up.

Sam shrugged again. “Just thinking.”

“No,” Dean said and stood up from his place at the kitchen table. Bobby entered the kitchen like he had a sixth sense for tension. “No, this wasn’t just a random thought you had. This is something else.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying, Dean.” It wasn’t even a question.

“I’m saying there’s something you’re not telling me. What is really going to happen in Vegas?” Dean demanded, stepping closer to Sam.

Bobby stood blocking the door with his arms crossed and eyes glaring at Sam.

Dean’s heart was racing now, not in anticipation as before but in fear for what was happening with Sammy.

“Death will happen in Vegas,” Sam said in a low voice so unlike his own it was like he was imitating Castiel.

“ _Who are you_?” Dean demanded, taking his gun from his waistband and aiming it at Sam’s chest.

Sam smirked. “Sam Winchester,” he laughed sardonically. “Sorry bro, but not everyone who breaks in Hell is a righteous man.”

No.

 _No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No._

Dean released the safety on his gun. “Tell me the truth,” he growled.

“I am Samuel Winchester. Dean, you weren’t the only one to be dragged out of Hell. I was, too,” Sam whispered the last part. “But I was brought back by a more powerful angel with bigger plans.”

“Raphael brought you back?” Dean demanded.

 _Cas, I need you. Sam turned. Raphael brought him back. I think Vegas is a trap. Come back now._

There was no response from Cas and Dean began to panic even more. He kept face for Sam, though. Disappointment, betrayal, and an infinite sadness bubbled under the surface of his existence but he wouldn’t let it come up. He shoved it all back down, like usual. The gun pointed at Sam’s chest may as well have been pointing at his own. Neither one of them were going to survive this.

“Yeah, Raphael brought me back. And he taught me a few tricks of my own,” Sam said before raising his hands.

A fire raged through Dean’s body and he couldn’t help but drop his gun and double over. A scream ripped its way up his throat.  It was a howl. A Hell howl. He knew it well. It was the animalistic wail of a man whose flesh was burning off of his body. Dean looked down at his body but saw no fire. It was all in his mind. It did nothing to quell the pain. He looked to see Bobby in the same unfaltering agony. Bile rose in his throat from the indescribable pain that was enveloping him. He dropped to the ground, writhing and screaming. Sam was gone. Leaving Bobby and Dean burning on the floor of the kitchen.

Everything in Dean Winchester’s life began and ended with fire. He accepted it. The fire that was burning in his mind caused him to lose control of his body and all he had left was his fear. It was like being in the pit again. Physically and emotionally. Sammy was gone and he had fucked everything up. His screams were now tortured, silent sobs. His voice had burned away minutes ago. Dean’s vision had blackened and he was sure he was about to die.

Dean knew there was nothing to do besides pray that he wouldn’t end up back in the pit. Pray that Cas would save the human race without him. Pray that Sammy would be alright in the end. Pray that he didn’t die for nothing. So he screamed for Cas inside and outside of his mind. Cas was his only hope. His one remaining life line on today’s game Who Wants to Survive the Apocalypse.

 _“Cas. Cas. Cas. Cas. Everything is burning. Cas. Cas. Cas. Cas.”_

 _“CAS. CAS. CAS. CAS.”_

 _“CAS! CAS! CAS!”_

 _“Help me.”_

 _  
_

 


	9. Chapter 9

Dean stared at Cas. “How?” he demanded, his voice still rough and dry.

                “First you need to know what happened to your brother,” Cas said. “I suggest we go upstairs and get you something to eat and drink first. I’ve seen you try to absorb information on an empty stomach.”

                The flash of amusement in Cas’ eyes reassured Dean. It told him that there was a chance that everything was going to be alright. They were going to get Sammy back because Cas had a plan. He had to have a plan because Dean had so little of a plan that he’d been comatose for a few days. Dean just simply was not dealing correctly.

                Cas mentioning food jogged his body into action. His stomach ached and grumbled audibly. He raised an eyebrow and headed up to the kitchen on wobbly, weak legs. Cas flew off and was back in the kitchen by the time Dean got there. He was holding a bag filled with burgers, fries, and an apple pie. A large chocolate milkshake was in his other hand.

                “You look like an angel standing there with that food,” Dean said quickening his pace to the greasy bag in Cas’ hand.

                “That’s because I _am_ an angel,” Cas said and let Dean rip the back and shake from his hands.

                Bobby snorted from his place, leaning against the sink. “Glad to see you’ve snapped out of it,” he said to Dean. His voice was casual, but he was watching Dean carefully.

                Dean looked up at Bobby for only a second as he took a huge bite of a burger. He saw the concern on Bobby’s face, but was not in the mood to talk about things just yet. All he wanted to do was eat his burger and hear what Cas had planned. There was no time for soft feelings and a share and care circle. Which sounded much more sexual than Dean had intended. He ate a burger in three bites. He was going to be sick but he didn’t care.

                After taking a long sip of his milkshake he looked up at Cas and gave a royal, sweeping gesture with his arm. “Proceed.”

                Cas didn’t even acknowledge his sarcasm. “Sam was raised from Hell by Raphael. This we had suspected, but it is true. Raphael raised him and then fed him angel blood. Since Sam was already stained with the blood of Azazel, the angel blood gave him even more power. When angel and demon blood is mixed in a human, the angel and demon involved have complete control over the human,” he stopped to be sure Dean was keeping up.

                “But Azazel is dead,” Dean said around a mouthful of burger.

                Cas wrinkled his nose slightly at Dean’s lack of table manners. Dean swallowed hard and continued. “He can’t control Sam if he isn’t alive.”

                “Correct, therefore Sam was being controlled completely by Raphael,” Cas said with a nod.

                “What do you mean by _controlled_?” Dean asked, grabbing a handful of fries.

                “Sam is more brainwashed than anything. Raphael used his control to contort Sam’s perceptions and emotions. That is how everything has escaped my notice. There is no actual evidence of Raphael’s influence besides in Sam’s blood. And I have not examined Sam’s blood,” Cas explained.

                “So Sam really is _Sam_ like he said?” Dean asked, pausing with a fry poised at his lips.

                “Technically. But he is brainwashed, so that’s more of a moral, unanswerable question rather than a factual one,” Cas said with a slight shrug.

                Dean resumed his eating and thought on it all. After mulling over the new information for a few bites of food, he looked back up at Cas. “So, how do we bring him back? How do we fix him?”

                “There is a spell,” Cas said and glanced up at Bobby for a second before turning towards the window above the sink. He stared out for a few minutes.

                “Yeah? And?” Dean asked. He was growing worried now.

                “It requires someone with angel blood to complete it,” Cas said.

                “You?” Dean asked.

                “I am a viable option, of course,” Cas said then sighed. “In fact, I may be our only option.”

                “That sounds self sacrificial to me. Explain,” Dean demanded. His food no longer looked appetizing and he pushed it away from him.

                Cas was silent.

                “ _Cas_ ,” Dean said in a sharp tone.

                Cas shook his head. “We can banish every fragment of angelic influence from the country with this spell. It would clear the blood from Sam, destroy Raphael if he is in the country, and destroy any other angel in America.”

                Cas was silent for a second. Dean was beginning to catch on. He stood up.

                “I’m going to go… work on that one car,” Bobby said awkwardly before exiting out the back door. A breeze coasted over Dean’s skin carrying the scent of peppermint from the unruly potted herb out the back door.

                “It would kill you, wouldn’t it?” Dean asked quietly. He didn’t mean to whisper it. He really didn’t. But his voice came out in a rough, choked whisper. He clenched his jaw as his throat constricted.

                Cas hung his head, still facing away from Dean.

                “Dammit, Cas,” Dean said and scrubbed a calloused hand over his face. “There’s gotta be another way.”

                Cas made a sound of derision. “Maybe if we ask Sam nicely.”

                Dean huffed a small laugh even though tears were prickling at the corners of his eyes. Cas had just confirmed that he was going to die for Dean. Again. He was allowed to be emotional about it.

                “Isn’t there another angel loyal to you who can do it?” Dean asked.

                “If I ask them to do it I am no better than Raphael. I can not ask them to do this,” Cas said, his voice like radio static.

                Dean’s heart sank. He just couldn’t win, could he? He wanted both Sam and Cas in his life, but he couldn’t have both. Sam or Cas? Sam or Cas? Both Cas and Dean knew that Dean chose Sam. It would always be Sam. Sam was his baby brother. There was no other choice.

                Dean tilted his head back and blinked, trying to reabsorb the tears. He let out a shaky breath. Cas turned around finally. The bottom of his coat swung around his legs with his movement. “I will get the things we need, but we need to go to the center of the country for the spell.”

                “Why the center?” Dean asked.

                “It is very similar to the spell Raphael has been using in the center of every town he eliminates. It is a banishing spell. His banishes humans. This one will banish angels. We will need to get Raphael in the country in order for it to work. Preferably close to where the spell will take place so that you can see with assurance that he is gone,” Cas explained robotically.

                “So we have to trap an archangel, do a spell, kill every angel in America, just to get Sam back?” Dean asked, leaning heavily against the counter.

                “Yes,” Cas said.

                “Are you… Can you-”

                “Am I willing to die to save the world and get Sam back? Yes,” Cas said seriously. “Dean, more than Sam rests on me doing this. You do remember that Raphael has been killing thousands of humans in order to eliminate the stain of humanity on Earth. It is not just Sam I would be doing this for.”

                Dean looked up at Cas again. His face was crumpled with sadness. He didn’t understand his own intense remorse for what Cas was going to do. The pain of losing Cas was almost as crippling as the pain of losing Sam. It startled him.

                Dean looked at his shoes. “Cas,” he said quietly. He said the name of his best friend so that it said more than one syllable. It said _I hate this, I love you, please find another way. Losing you would kill me._

                “I will collect what we need for the spell,” Cas said and with a flutter of wings, he was gone.

                Dean stared at the empty kitchen for a few moments before he let out a shaky breath. Then the anger set in. He kicked out at the chair he’d been sitting at before, sending the chair spinning and skidding against the wall and breaking into three. Dean spun to the liquor cabinet and tore open a bottle of whiskey. He took a long drag of it. The liquid burning his throat and if it were not for his determination and rage his body would have rejected it in a second.

                When he needed a breath he didn’t set the bottle down, he threw it against the wall, above where the chair hit, with a horrible yell. Bobby came in the back door and looked directly at Dean without surveying the damage to his kitchen.

                “He’s not going to die if we have anything to do with it, boy. Let’s get to work finding another way,” Bobby said calmly and rationally.

                Dean was intensely grateful for Bobby, especially at that moment. Dean blinked back the damn tears that threatened to burst from his eyes. He nodded at Bobby and sniffled.

                Bobby shut the door behind him and headed towards the office. He called back over his shoulder “When this is all done and over with, I want you to clean up the mess you made in my kitchen. I am not your maid and this is not a bar!”

                Dean gave a wobbly smile and followed the man who effectively loved him more than his own father.

                They called other trusted hunters, they called scholars of every mythology, they called churches, they called nunneries, they called occult shop owners, they called everyone who they could think of that might have a scrap of knowledge on angels.

                Then, two nights into their search, after Bobby got back from visiting another hunter two states over for a séance of a saint, Dean thought of something. Bobby had gotten nothing of use from the saint who was actually quite less than saintly, but now was not the time to enjoy irony. But Dean had drank six Monster energy drinks and about three pots of coffee and everything was tinged with rainbows and glitter like Ke$ha’s wet dream. In his state of caffeinated euphoria, he thought about how he could help Cas. It all came down to blood, didn’t it?

                “ _Bobby Bobby Bobby Bobby Bobby Bobby Bobbyobbyobbyobby_ I thought of something!” Dean exclaimed as Bobby opened the front door.

                Bobby looked exhausted and taken aback by Dean’s hyperactivity so Dean cooled his jets and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah? What is it?” Bobby asked gruffly and in a tone that suggested he didn’t believe Dean. And with good reason too, because all of Dean’s other ideas had gotten them nowhere.

                “It’s brilliant, Bobby,” Dean said.

                “I’m sure,” Bobby said and set down his bag on the hallway floor.

                “Everything comes down to blood, right?” Dean asked Bobby rhetorically as they headed to the kitchen. Bobby mumbled something as he opened a beer. “What if we change Cas’ blood?”

                Bobby stared at Dean over his beer like Dean had just grown another head.

                “Bobby, what if we put my blood in Cas?” Dean continued. He paced behind the kitchen table to expel some of his energy. “What if when he has my blood in him, he becomes part human? So when he does the spell, it doesn’t kill him dead, it only kills his angel mojo.”

                “Your reasoning being that Sam is part demon, part angel, and part human right now?” Bobby asked. His voice and face was neutral as he mulled over the new information.

                “Yeah,” Dean said. He studied Bobby for some kind of reaction.

                “You’re suggesting we have to taint an angel?” Bobby asked, still neutral.

                “Taint him with me!” Dean said then thought on it.

                “There are things about your personal life, son, that I just do not wish to hear about,” Bobby said, a look of horror evident on his face.

                “That’s not what I meant,” Dean said and rolled his eyes.

                Bobby was silent now, thinking it over. He sipped his beer slowly.

                “It’s the best shot we have. And we need to get our asses moving on this. While we’ve been looking for ways to save Cas, Raphael wiped out another town. This one in Georgia,” Bobby said and polished off his beer. He tossed the bottle in the trash.

                “Then it’s what we’re going to do. Now,” Dean said.

                “After a few hours of sleep. We’re useless to the world dead tired,” Bobby said with a yawn. “Give Cas a call and tell him that we have some news and we’ll get back to him after we get some rest. Remind him that we’re human, will you?”

                Bobby shuffled off to his bedroom and Dean moved to pull out his phone but remembered he didn’t need it.

                _Cas, Bobby and I have some news. I have an idea but I need to sleep on it. Bobby and I have been awake for days and seeing as we’re still human, we need a few hours of shut eye to think clearly. I’ll call you after we get some rest. Things are going to be okay, Cas. I really think so. How is everything going with the search for the spell ingredients?_

                Dean waited for Cas’ reply, expecting the itch inside his brain. _The search is going as expected. I should be finished tomorrow. What is this plan of yours? There is nothing to stop what is going to happen, Dean. Get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow._

Dean took that as a goodnight, so he went to the room he had commandeered as his own years ago, and crawled into bed. He was exhausted despite the artificial adrenaline rush in his veins. There was a point where the sugar high wasn’t enough to keep Dean awake and he had surpassed it about a day without sleep ago. So he fell asleep within minutes and slept dreamlessly until morning

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Life is wild.  
> There's more information and romance in this chapter than action. But I didn't want to rush things.   
> Hope you enjoy it!!

 

                “Dean, you said you had something important to tell me,” interrupted Dean’s wonderful dream of driving in the Impala down a sunny stretch with his boys in the car singing Led Zep. “Dean.”

                “Dean.”

                He had had about five hours of sleep after being awake for days. He was not getting up. He buried his face further into the pillows.

                “Dean Winchester.”

                Not a chance. If he ignored the voice, it would go away.

                “ _Dean_.”

                A poke to his ribs. Still not getting up.

                A sigh. And weight settled on the bed next to Dean’s waist.

                A hand stroked the back of his neck and shoulders. “Are you conscious?”

                Dean shook his head, his face pressed into the pillows.

                A low chuckle. A hand tentatively and slowly trailed down the line of Dean’s spine to the dip in his back and then back to his neck. Dean shivered and gave in. He turned over, on his back; eyes still closed, and reached out to Cas. He pulled the angel down next to him, pressed against him. He held Cas to him.

                They were not cuddling. Not at all. Dean simply needed to feel that Cas was still there. He wanted to feel his best friend before they went off and did something stupid like get themselves smote.  Dean boxed Cas’ head against his own with a his arm. At first, his hand just rested on Cas’ hair, but then he wiggled his fingers into the dark mass. Dean’s mouth was at Cas’ brow and Cas’ eyelashes brushed Dean’s chin.

                “Dean,” Cas said quieter now. The way he’d said Dean’s name was like the sigh of “Ahhh” when sitting in a favorite chair after a long stressful day. Dean’s lips curled up in a smile because, yeah, it felt great.

                Dean kissed Cas’ temple. “I think I can save you,” he murmured, eyes still closed.

                “Dean.” A quiet plead now.

                “No, I’m going to save you _and_ Sammy. Neither of you are going anywhere,” Dean said quietly but determinedly.

                Cas clenched a hand in the fabric of Dean’s faded blue t-shirt on his stomach. He shifted his head up and Dean knew he was trying to catch Dean’s eye so Dean finally looked at Cas. Cas’ eyes were wide, pleading, fearful, and terribly sad. “You can’t. There is no other way. We can not _fight_ Raphael and his garrison. He is much too strong.”

                “No, we’re sticking to your plan, but with an added Winchester spin to it,” Dean said with a slight smirk.

“We’re going to go to the center of the states; we’re going to do the spell. It’s going to kill all of the angel influence and Raphael. But,” Dean said and studied Cas hard for the coming reaction, “you’re going to have my blood in your veins.”

Cas’ eyes narrowed slightly, his lips pursed, and he managed to tilt his head like a puppy even when on his side. “I do not understand.”

“You said that it all comes down to the angel blood in Sam that’s letting Raphael control him. And because you have angel blood, the spell we need to get Sam back and kill Raphael will kill you, too. So, what if you had human blood, _my_ blood, in you when you did the spell?”

“It would… kill my Grace… but perhaps not me or my vessel,” Cas said slowly.

Dean grinned broadly.

“But it’s not guaranteed, Dean,” Cas said.

“It’s a chance you’ll still be alive,” Dean said, still grinning. “It’s a chance we gotta take.”

Cas’ face loosened suddenly. The lines Dean thought were permanently etched into Cas’ forehead smoothed, his eyes brightened, and his mouth lifted in a smile. “ _Dean_ ,” he said, sounding impressed, “You did it.”

“I’m a freaking genius,” Dean said with a chuckle.

Cas moved so that he was on his back and he stared up at the ceiling with a huge smile. It was like he’d been going through life with a death sentence above his head. Just waiting for the next enemy to come along and try to kill him. Now, there was a way to end that fear and anticipation. He sighed with immense relief.

Dean wasn’t a romantic or poetic sort of guy, but even he couldn’t miss the beauty of the morning. He had a smiling angel in his bed, a plan, hope, and sun streaming through the curtains and slanting across the angel’s angles. Dean couldn’t help it. He rolled so that his chest overlapped Cas’ and his sleep tousled head loomed over Cas’ sunny face.

“You’re gonna live,” Dean said and bumped his forehead against Cas’.

“I’ll be human,” Cas said with the slightest distaste.

“Exactly. You’ll _live_ in the world you saved,” Dean explained.

Cas rolled his eyes and smiled. Dean licked his lips, anticipating the kiss he was about to plant on Cas, but they were so close that he licked Cas’ lips, too. Cas’ eyes closed and he sucked in a breath. Dean closed the miniscule distance between him and Cas and kissed him. Cas’ lips were soft beneath his as he kissed him back. _Cas was kissing him back._ Dean groaned and moved so that he was completely on top of Cas, his knees on either side of the angel’s thighs. One hand tangled its way back into Cas’ hair and the other was wrapped in Cas’ tie, tugging just a little. Cas’ hands tentatively rested on Dean’s sides, a warm presence through the t-shirt. Dean opened his lips and ran his tongue over Cas’ lips. Cas almost immediately opened for him, his hands tightening on Dean’s sides. Dean swiped his tongue into Cas’ mouth. Cas took him greedily and sucked on Dean’s tongue. Dean moaned and ground his hips down against Cas’ hips. Cas jumped and gasped a little at the new pleasure. Dean chuckled against Cas’ mouth.

Dean knew not to take it very far. Cas was new to the pleasures of the human body and physical contact, so Dean figured he shouldn’t push Cas into the deep end just yet. So Dean kissed Cas long and full until he couldn’t ignore the almost painful hardness in his pants. He ground down on Cas again and felt that Cas was just as hard. It was a new experience for Dean as it was with Cas to be grinding with another guy. But, Dean remembered, Cas wasn’t really a _guy_.

 _We’re both so hard we’re going to come. I hope Cas comes. Wanna see it._ Dean didn’t realize he was praying.

 _That is not how you pray, Dean_. Cas prayed right back.

Dean ground his hips down on Cas’ and the angel pushed right back in a thrust that rolled his whole body against the bed. They both moaned against each other’s mouths.

 _Castiel, I pray that you do not stop moving and moaning like that or I’ll punch you in the throat. Cas, I pray that you come in your pants like a fifteen year old. Need to see it_. Dean was just pushing Cas now. Teasing him.

Dean thrust against Cas in a steady rhythm like a rested heartbeat until Cas was gasping and writhing beneath Dean instead of returning the thrusts. Cas gripped Dean tightly as he whimpered beneath Dean. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was biting his lip. Dean figured the angel was afraid of the feelings in his own body so Dean gently kissed Cas’ forehead and face as he picked up his pace. His own breathing grew more ragged with the faster pace and harder thrusts.

Then Cas got louder and gripped Dean so tight Dean was sure that he’d bruise. Cas was practically shouting and moaning in what sounded like Enochian but Dean was afraid Bobby would hear and think something was wrong so he kissed Cas hard and swallowed the sound. Cas’ body arched against Dean’s and off of the bed and he gasped before letting out a trembling moan of something Enochian and Dean’s name. Dean thrust a few more times before he also came. He moaned low and long as he nestled his head against Cas’ neck and rocked out his orgasm.

When they both had come down from their orgasms, Dean flopped down on the bed next to Cas, looking at him. Cas turned to Dean, looking thoughtful but happy. “Dean, after everything is over…”

                “Yeah, we can do that again,” Dean finished for him.

                “I wasn’t sure if it was rude to ask,” Cas said with a smile.

                “Not when you ask me. See, if you asked Sam or Bobby, then yeah. They’d be a little freaked,” Dean chuckled.

                “I will not ask Bobby for orgasms,” Castiel said resolutely.

                “Good to know,” Dean snorted.

                “Can we do it again soon?” Cas asked.

                “What have I done?” Dean fake wailed as he rolled over away from Cas. “I’ve turned you into a sex maniac!”

                “As if such a thing would distress you,” Cas said honestly and looked down at his body.

                “You’re right, it wouldn’t,” Dean laughed then noticed Cas discovering the mess he’d made. “Oh, go ahead and mojo it away. Soon you’ll have to learn how to shower.”

                Cas nodded and touched a hand to the front of his pants and then Dean’s. Dean felt the drying come leave his skin with a sense of relief. He sighed and looked at Cas staring up at the ceiling contemplatively.

                “When are we going to do this?” Dean asked seriously now.

                “The sooner we act the better chance we have at succeeding. I believe that Raphael may have agents in the town guarding it. We will have no trouble getting him there. He is prideful and will not resign from any challenge we present him,” Cas said, all business now. He sat up on the bed, his back to Dean and his feet on the floor.

                Dean sat up, too, but stayed in his place.

                “How much time do you think the blood will take to make you part human?” Dean asked.

                “Well, there is a ritual we will have to complete. An angel’s Grace works to rid any foreign substances in the vessel and we will have to quell it or your blood will be disintegrated before it fully enters my blood stream,” Cas said.

                “Wait, what about Jimmy’s blood?” Dean asked.

                Cas almost smiled. “His human blood was destroyed as soon as I entered his vessel.”

                “But I’ve seen you bleed,” Dean said. He didn’t understand.

                “Yes, angelic blood is red when it reaches oxygen, too. Did you think it would be green?” Cas asked in a mocking tone. He looked back at Dean with mirth in his eyes.

                “No, I just don’t understand this whole angel blood thing,” Dean said slightly defensively.

                “You will soon, I suspect,” Cas said.

                “What is the ritual?” Dean asked.

                “I am not completely sure, but I know it exists. I will find out now,” Cas said before disappearing from his place on Dean’s bed.

                Dean blinked at the sudden absence of his friend and then let out a long breath. He rested back against the bed and folded his hands on his chest. Then, with a jolt of realization and panic and excitement, he remembered: _I JUST DRY HUMPED AN ANGEL._ A second later he was out of bed, looking at the rumpled sheets and carding a hand nervously through his hair.

                That was it, wasn’t it? There was no more denying that he had feelings for Cas. No more pretending that they were simply friends. No more lying to himself. What did this mean for their relationship? Dean didn’t want to label anything because that’s what chicks did. Girls needed to label relationships so that they could update their Facebook statuses with them. Girls did that to brag to single friends. Dean was not a girl. Neither was Cas. So couldn’t they just be two guy friends who sometimes made out and dry humped each other? Was that gay? That was kinda gay. Dean wasn’t gay. He liked girls. He liked Cas. Was he Cas-sexual? What. No. That’s not even a real thing. But Cas had a _thing_ so for all intents and purposes he was a dude. Dean just dry humped another dude. He thought he was over this. Why was he still freaking out? He needed some breakfast. Something with a lot of bacon.

                Dean bolted from the room and down the stairs and into the kitchen where Bobby was sitting in his ratty blue bathrobe, ball cap already on. Bobby was reading the local newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee.

                “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Bobby deadpanned by way of greeting as he peered over his reading glasses at Dean.

                Dean ran a hand over his face and felt the now cold sweat on his brow. “I was just… Cas was here and-”

                “Got it. No need to explain,” Bobby clammed up and shuffled his paper.

                Dean scoffed because he really had no response, and went to the fridge. He began concocting an omelet out of the few ingredients in Bobby’s fridge and pantry. Bobby watched with a frown on his face as Dean cooked a huge breakfast.

                “I woulda figured you’d still be asleep,” Bobby said as Dean cracked a few eggs into a mixing bowl.

                “Cas woke me up,” Dean said. “After all this time, he still hasn’t grasped the concept that humans need sleep to function. But I guess he’ll learn first hand soon enough.”

                “You two are really going to go through with the whole blood sharing thing?” Bobby asked and put down his paper.

                “Yeah, Bobby, we gotta try it,” Dean replied. “If there’s a way for me to save Sammy _and_ Cas then there’s no way I’m passing it up.”

                “What did Cas say?” Bobby asked.

                “He said he wasn’t positive if it would work or not, but he seemed to want to give it a go,” Dean said and went back to his cooking. He didn’t want Bobby to know about the relief on the angel’s face, and the happiness in his voice. Something about that moment felt more private to Dean than the moment that followed it.

                “Well, where is he now? When’s this going to happen?” Bobby asked and refilled his coffee.

                “He went off somewhere to figure out the ritual to allow my blood in his vessel without it being disintegrated. I don’t know when he’ll be back, but he said we should do it soon,” Dean said and poured his raw omelet into the hot pan.

                “I hope you idjits have a back up plan,” Bobby said.

                “Yeah, the back up plan is that Cas dies and Sam lives,” Dean said grimly.

                “I meant if you’re unable to complete the ritual,” Bobby said. “From where I’m looking, you have no way out of there.”

                “That’s where you come in, Bobby,” Dean said. “If the ritual doesn’t work and Cas and I are both killed, then it’s up to you to kill Raphael and… stop Sam.”

                “Oh, good. So even after you’re dead I get to clean up your mess,” Bobby said even though Dean knew that Bobby was accepting this duty. He said nothing to deny the task. Bobby grabbed his newspaper off the table. “But I’m not cleaning up after your breakfast. If you’re still alive, you can still clean my damned kitchen.” Bobby shuffled out of the kitchen and left Dean half smiling over the stove. 


End file.
